No One Knows Truth
by Psalm 136
Summary: Jean Grey was not crushed by Alkali Lake, and she must face the repercussions of her choices. Friends and enemies alike return home. Scott's past finally catches up to him, and he relives memories he would rather forget, and Magneto's making trouble again
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Unlike Miniatus Vir, my other story about Scott, this story will be about what would have happened if Jean had not died at Alkali Lake, and how that would have affected their lives. **

**Note 2: This is a repost, and I had it betaed by the awesome, incomparable WCUGirl. Go read her stories and review. She's awesome.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, Alyssa Earnest, Emily Rachery, or Robi Wexler.**

When Scott Summers saw the waves of water advance towards his fiancée, he thought his heart would stop.

He was filled with an inexplicable rage, a thousand elongated moments later, as he tried to figure out some way he could save her. There was no way. They were several hundred feet in the air, and she was holding back the water, and no matter how he tried to convince himself of the strength Jean possessed… he knew she couldn't hold it for long. Painful gasps ripped through his throat, but no sound seemed to come out. His entire body felt cold and clammy, though his heart burned with fury. He had no idea who his anger was directed at, but he suspected himself. He was her fiancé, her best friend and her lover. It was his job and his job alone to protect her and save her from all threats. He was completely helpless to do so.

Scott heard the Professor's voice speak, but it reached his ears as Jean's. He ran from the window, tearing his eyes away from his beautiful Jean who was using all of her strength to save them. He fell to his knees, hungry for Jean's words, though it hit him as a physical blow that these would be her last. He wasn't sure what Professor Xavier was saying; all he comprehended was that Jean loved him, and that this was the only way. But it couldn't be! She couldn't die, not two months before their wedding, not before he could give her a family and they could grow old together. Death was inevitable, but she deserved more time.

"Jean…" His voice was choked and weak, bordering on hysterical. "I love you. Don't do this. Please."

He ran from the Professor's side back up to the control panel to look down at Jean once more. The waves seemed closer to her than before, a sure sign that her strength was waning. Soon, she would let go, and she would drown. She would die, right before his eyes. He turned to his teammates.

"STORM! Do something!" He ordered, his eyes inevitably attracted back to Jean. "Somebody, please…" He leaned over the controls, his hands bracing him against the windshields. "Can't anybody do anything?!" He was coming dangerously close to shrieking, unable to do anything else.

Scott felt as though it was he that was running out of strength as the telekinetic wall Jean had created weakened, the water inching closer to her. He wanted to scream, hoping that his words would reach her in her last moments, but there was nothing he could do. She would drown, and he would be alone. His best friend would be dead. His life would mean nothing if she was gone. He could hardly draw breath as he waited for her to disappear underneath the waves.

He heard a muted BAMF, as if there was a thick wall surrounding him, and he paid no heed to it. His mind was focused only on Jean, and it would not focus on anything else. If these were his last moments with his beloved, then he would soak in all he could. His eyes were riveted to the small form of his fiancée, forcing himself not to blink, though tears bubbled on the bottom of his view. He thought it was his imagination when suddenly, a small blue form appeared next to hers, and then both bodies disappeared, and the water crashed down in the small space Jean's telekinetic wall had enclosed her in.

"What the hell? WHERE IS SHE?!" Scott screamed when he heard another BAMF behind him, and he whirled around.

There stood Kurt Wagner, the Nightcrawler, with Jean's limp form in his arms.

Scott immediately ran to Kurt, unable to even thank the German as he accepted the burden of Jean's unconscious body. He leaned his face close to hers, shaking with fear that when he did so, he would not feel the gentle pressure of her breath. He sucked in a lungful of air, attempting to keep himself still enough to do so. He collapsed to his knees when he felt and assured himself that Jean was truly breathing. He leaned his forehead against hers, feeling her stir in his arms.

"Jean?" Scott asked, fearful that she would fall back into unconsciousness or into a coma. "Jean, are you okay?"

"Scott?" She breathed, looking up to meet his eyes through his visor. "Is everyone-?" She jerked herself into a sitting position, looking around and meeting the eyes of the students and the other X-Men. He took a deep breath, and then fell back into Scott's comforting and warm embrace. "Everyone's okay." She relaxed, letting Scott take charge and lift her up.

Scott was still shaking with shock and fear as he set her next to Bobby. "Here, Cyclops." The teenager put an arm around Jean, steadying her so Scott could put a safety restraint around her, securing her in place.

"Storm," Scott's voice was still unsteady, but he fought through it. "Get us home. I think she might need some medical attention, and…" He trailed off, knowing Storm would understand that he needed to be with her.

"Okay." She nodded, sitting down. She settled herself into the pilot's chair, plugging in the coordinates for the mansion. Her heart was thudding, having come within a hair's breadth of losing her best friend. She closed her eyes, staying at the controls even though she set the jet to autopilot, knowing she was in no emotional state to be in control.

Scott sat down on Jean's other side, one arm around her shoulders, holding her against himself. She accepted the comfort and warmth of his body and leaned her cheek on her fiancé's shoulder, closing her eyes, easily falling into a deep sleep. Scott let out a breath, finding it incredibly easy to relax and lean his head back against the jet's walls now that Jean was once more in his arms. She was alive. He was utterly consumed with an unspeakable joy at that simple thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, just so everyone knows, I don't know how frequently I will be updating. What I want to do is every time I finish a chapter, I will post one. I'm currently writing chapter seven, so when I finish that, I'll post chapter three, but life gets in the way. Anyway, I would adore any and all feedback you can provide me with!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. It's depressing, I know.**

"But Ororo, I need to be there!" Scott argued, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. "She might wake up and be afraid! Or confused! And I just need to be there and make sure she's okay!"

Ororo Munroe understood her friend's need to be with his fiancée. However, she wasn't about to let him run himself ragged. The Professor, after probing Jean's mind gently while she was asleep, told them she wouldn't be awake for several hours. Her body had exerted too much energy and had completely shut itself down after the mind had allowed it, knowing it was protected and safe. She stood obstinately in front of the Med-Bay's door, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Go, Scott." She told him. "Jean will still be asleep for a while. You should go and take a shower and get something to eat. Then, you can come and sit with her." She reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Please, Scott?" She requested, realizing she should have known that stubbornness wouldn't work with the leader of the X-Men.

Scott looked into her eyes and sighed. "Fine, Ororo. You're lucky I like you." He muttered, turning around and complying with her wishes.

It was a struggle for Scott to keep himself from turning around and running to Jean's side, but he managed to make it all of the way to their room. He opened the door and paused. He looked at all of their possessions, the things that inhabited the room he shared with Jean, and felt a wave of shock hit him. He could have lost her. She could have _**died**_. He dragged in a deep breath, and then let it out. She was only sleeping in the Med-Bay. She would be awake in a couple hours, and their lives would go on. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then closed the door behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, a towel around his waist and a smaller one in his hands. He was half-bent over, rubbing the towel through his dripping hair. He sat down on the edge of the bed, squeezing his hair out into the towel quickly before he stood up, and then opened their walk-in closet. He turned to his side and selected a pair of khaki slacks and a black sweater. He changed quickly and walked back into the bathroom to drape the towels over their respective hooks to dry.

Scott adjusted his sunglasses over his face as he looked himself over in the mirror. He grabbed the comb he'd left lying on his bedside table and dragged it through his damp hair. He was secretly thankful that Ororo had sent him to take a shower. He felt refreshed and calm, a far cry from the desperate man he'd been downstairs.

On a whim, he went back into the closet and found Jean's favorite pajamas. Her sleeping attire was comprised of a t-shirt of his from college and black shorts. He was half-tempted to pull out some of her sexy lingerie, but chuckled at himself. He knew she would be exhausted and would want to sleep. He laid out her clothes on the bed, shifting her slippers over till they were directly underneath them, and found her terrycloth robe and set it down beside the rest. He went over a mental list of things he knew Jean liked when she was exhausted or sick.

"Pajamas… robe… slippers…" He muttered. "Tea!" He brightened, and then left the room after putting his shoes on.

"Mr. Summers!" He heard Rogue calling him from down the hall.

He turned a smile on his face. "Yes, Rogue? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She smiled in return, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I just wanted to know if Dr. Grey was okay. I was really worried because she was so…" She trailed off, clasping her hands together in nervousness and concern.

"She's sleeping right now; she was very exhausted after using all of that energy, but she'll be awake in a couple of hours." Scott replied, and then he turned his attention back to his student. "How about you? I noticed John wasn't with you." His voice took a gentler tone, his face softening to show his sympathy and personal sadness at losing one of his students to Magneto.

"Oh… yeah…" Rogue trailed off with a sigh. "I'm angry with him, but he's in my head right now and driving me nuts. But I guess I understand his reasons, but still." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Anyway," She shook her head slightly, forcing those thoughts (and John's persona in her head) away. "I'm going to go and meet up with Bobby. I hope Dr. Grey gets better soon." She offered a smile.

"Thanks, Rogue. See you in class tomorrow." Scott watched Rogue leave, and then walked off towards the nearest elevator. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how a gaping hole had been made in the hallway wall of one of the boys' dormitories.

When the X-Men had returned on the jet, after Jean was placed in the Med-Bay and hooked up to life monitors, they had set about cleaning up the mansion. The dead bodies were sent to the nearest hospital for doctors to pronounce and notify the families, and though the authorities had asked questions, Professor Xavier had taken care of it. Scott wasn't sure how he had managed to explain the three consecutive wounds on several of the bodies, but no one had showed up with a warrant for Logan's or anyone else's arrest. Most of the glass and broken pieces of wood had been swept up, and only the major holes in the walls and glassless windows remained. An appointment for a contractor had been set for the next day, and the mansion should be completely fixed up within the week. There was also the small problem of severe water damage in one spot on one of the upper floors, but that too would be taken care of.

All in all, the evidence of Stryker's attack would be erased. Jean would soon be awake. The only lingering effects seemed to be on his mind. He was still haunted by thoughts of being captive to Stryker and his men, of being beaten and controlled. He almost shivered from the simple memories. That was pushed from his mind when he walked into the kitchen, and his stomach told him just how hungry he really was.

Scott attacked the fridge, quickly making himself a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich. He poured a glass of milk and sat at the kitchen island, a popular place for the students and staff alike to eat casually. He finished his sandwich, alternating bites with sips of milk. His stomach satisfied, he looked through the cupboards for a packet of Jean's favorite raspberry zinger tea. He found one and set water on the stove to boil. While it was heating up, he set about finding a raisin and spice bagel and the cream cheese to put on it. He opened up a familiar drawer and found a butter knife to spread the strawberry cream cheese.

He looked up and his hand froze when he saw who entered the kitchen. He resumed his previous activity – spreading cream cheese on a bagel for Jean – and resolved to ignore Logan. It wasn't that he hated Logan. It was simply that he loved Jean, and wasn't the most comfortable with seeing some of the looks Logan sent her. It was obvious that the Wolverine was attracted to her. Scott could understand that. Jean was a beautiful woman. But what Scott simply could not condone was the way Logan was so persistent. Jean was going to marry HIM in two months.

"Logan." Scott acknowledged, his voice carrying only neutrality.

"So, how is she?" Logan asked, his tone also neutral.

Scott looked up as he placed the knife in the sink and found a small tray for both the tea and bagel. He set the tray down and took the water from the stove, pouring it into the cup where the small packet of tea sat. He moved the cup onto the tray as well before focusing on Logan.

"She's asleep. The Professor thinks she'll wake up in a couple of hours." Scott replied quietly. "Logan, I know we haven't been on the best terms, but thank you."

"For what?" Logan asked, his eyebrows slightly raised to show his disbelief that 'Cyke' was actually showing gratitude.

Scott sighed, his hands on the island and leaning against it. "You were there to protect her when I couldn't be. I was worried about her, but you kept her safe. Thank you." He looked away.

Logan snorted, walking over to the refrigerator. He took out a soda and sat down at the island, looking up at Scott. "I didn't do it for you." He told the younger man, taking a gulp of the root beer. He watched his opponent (for that was what Scott was to him), and instinctually took stock of the situation. There were two exits, and his back was to both of them. He also had two sets of adamantium claws and a healing mutation. With all of this stored in the back of his mind, he relaxed mentally. It wasn't that he was jealous of Scott, who was considered a hero by the students, who had a perfect future ahead of him including all of the things that Logan secretly wished for. He would never envy _Scott._

Scott rolled his eyes, thankful for the glasses to hide the juvenile motion. He stayed silent, and picked up the tray. He was finding it oddly hard to restrain himself and remain calm. He had known Logan would never do anything for him. That was one of the most obvious things in the world, besides the fact that Jubilee never paid any attention in his class. One would think she would shape up after being constantly being reprimanded in class. One would think she would stop eating gum when she came to class, because she had to know he would make her spit it out the moment she stepped in. Three months, and she still hadn't learned. After all of this time, Scott still had not accepted the fact Logan would never do anything for him. Odd how students seemed to act exactly like their teachers sometimes.

He carried the tray carefully as he entered the elevator, and then stepped out when it reached the sub-basements. He looked left and right, looking for Ororo. She must have left when she knew he was taking care of himself. He smiled. She was a good friend. He was blessed to have her. He walked into the Med-Bay, nodding to the Professor.

"Hello, Scott." Charles looked up from where he sat, his fingers at Jean's temples. "She's still sleeping."

"I know." Scott smiled. "I couldn't stay away for much longer." He admitted, though he did not go on to say that he needed to be in the same room as Jean, to assure himself that she had been saved. "Where's Kurt?" He asked suddenly.

"Ororo has found him a room, and I'm sure he's resting. It's been a long day." Charles wheeled himself away from Jean's bed. "I'll leave you two alone. You did well today, Scott. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." Scott nodded. "I'm sorry about…" He swallowed, letting out a sigh. "I tried."

Charles stopped his wheelchair in front of his surrogate son. "You did all you could, and more. I do not blame you for anything that happened." He said firmly.

"Okay." Scott placed the tray of provisions for Jean on a nearby table. "I'll call you the moment she wakes up." He promised, and then watched the Professor wheel away, turning back to his fiancée.

"Hey Jean." Scott whispered as he sat down on a rolling chair by the lights that were used to illuminate x-rays. He took her limp hand gently, careful to not wake her up. He wouldn't be surprised if she didn't wake up for several hours. She had never used so much power at one time, and he was worried she might have injured herself. A mutation is much like a muscle; if you work it too hard, you can temporarily injure yourself.

"I'm so glad you're alright. I don't know what I would have done without you. You saved us, and I'm so proud of you. You're so strong. I love you, Jean." He told her, smiling at her sleeping face. She was so beautiful, and it still captivated him. She completely commanded his existence; he was hers completely.

Scott was silent for a long while, content to watch her breathe and think about their upcoming wedding. He wasn't nervous about marrying her. He knew that she was all he needed for the rest of his life. He was so ready to be married to her, but at the same time, he was concerned that he would not be a good husband for her, or a good father to their children when the time came. Would he anger her? Would he push her away? Would they fight terribly? They had had their quarrels, but they were both mature adults and could resolve the problem without reverting to personal attacks. He was still worried. There were some horror stories about marriage, but when he thought about marriage to Jean, it could be nothing less than… amazing. He leaned forward and kissed her palm, just as she began to stir.

"Scott?" She murmured, still half-asleep.

"Welcome back, stranger." He smiled, standing up so she could see him. "I missed you for a while. How do you feel?" He helped her sit up as she attempted to.

"My head hurts slightly, but it's nothing more than a usual headache." She reached up to rub her neck. "Is that tea I smell?" She asked with a smile, spotting the tray on the table. "Oh, Scott. You're so thoughtful." She couldn't stop the grin that spread over her face as her fiancé brought the tray over to her and set it on her lap.

"Of course I am. That's what I do." Scott leaned down and kissed her. "I've got everything laid out in the room, so when you're ready, we can just go to bed. I'm sure you're exhausted still. You're so brave, Jean." He murmured as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you." Jean responded, timidly meeting Scott's eyes through his glasses. "You're so sweet, Scott, and I don't deserve it." She admitted, casting her eyes down to the bagel and tea, picking up half of the bagel and the teacup.

"What do you mean?" Scott asked with a chuckle. "You deserve only the best."

"Oh, don't say that." Jean looked at him, annoyed, though definitely not at him.

"What are you talking about, Jean?" He asked her, a concerned hand immediately moving to where her neck and shoulder met. "Talk to me." He gently urged. He was worried for her. What could she possibly mean, she didn't deserve the best? Maybe it was just obvious to him, the man who loved her, and she was blinded by insecurities. He rubbed her back slightly, waiting for her to speak.

"I kissed Logan." Her words were slightly muffled by the bagel in her mouth, but he understood her nonetheless. "He kissed me, but I… responded."

Scott bit down on his lip, wondering what this meant. He wouldn't leave her because of one kiss, if she had not wanted it to happen. He couldn't control the lusts and actions of other men. But two months from their wedding… he took a deep breath, pushing his raging jealousies and anger away. "I see." He replied neutrally. "Do you like him?"

"I'm attracted to him. I can't help that." Jean put the bagel and tea down, pushing it away to face Scott. "I do like him as a friend." She looked directly into Scott's face. She wouldn't lie to him about this. They had a solid history of honesty, especially when it came to outside temptations. "I find it very hard to control myself around him. He's different and unpredictable."

Scott's throat seemed to slowly be closing up as he wondered if she was slowly trying to break up with him and tell him that she wanted to try to be in a relationship with Logan. He pursed his lips together, going over the information she had given up. "Is he what you want? If you want him, I won't stop you from leaving. You know that. I love you, Jean, but if you would be happy with him, then I will live." He gave her a half-hearted attempt at a smile, but did not reach out to touch her, not knowing how she would react.

"Scott!" Jean snapped, reprimanding him. "Don't ever think that. Please. I love you, and I wouldn't give up what we have for an uncertain future with anyone, especially Logan. Yes, I'm attracted to him. I've been attracted to many men, but I would never leave you." She reached up to touch his jaw. "I don't care about anyone else. I'm marrying you in two months. You are the only man I ever want to be kissing me or touching me. You will be the father of my children, and that's absolutely final, Scott Summers." She smiled at him, softening her harsh tone. "You can be so silly sometimes." She commented. "You doubt yourself and the effect you have on me. You still drive me crazy." She gently drew him closer and kissed him.

Scott returned the kiss, closing his eyes. After they pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry." He smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Ready to go to bed? We can bring the tray along, and I've got everything laid out for you. Your favorite pajamas and everything." He grinned, unable to contain his giddiness. He felt safe to express himself, knowing her mind was not on anyone else.

"Awww." Jean crooned as Scott helped her out of the medical bed. "You are so sweet. I love you, Scottie." She teased him with the name, hugging him briefly, making to pull away from him when she realized her legs weren't quite ready to hold her weight. "Oh!" She leaned back, steadying herself against the bed.

"Are you okay?" He asked, moving to her side immediately.

"I think so." She lowered herself onto the bed. "A little weak, though." She took a deep breath. "Okay…" She forced herself to stand, and accepted Scott's arm around her waist. She leaned heavily against him.

"I've got you, Jean." He assured her with a smile.

Together, they walked out of the Med-Bay, and into the elevator to the second floor, where the room they shared was. Scott then gently lifted Jean into his arms, carrying her bridal style. He smiled down at her. His heart was still fit to burst with the amount of joy that was bubbling in him. She loved him. Everyday, when she said it, it still sounded new and refreshing. It gave him purpose. She loved him, and so he could fulfill all of her needs. It seemed so simple to him.

He set her down to open their door, and then helped her in, depositing her onto the bed. As she stood up to change into her pajamas from her X-Man suit, he kicked off his shoes and found the novel she had been reading the previous night on the chair in the corner. He handed it to her as she pulled the covers over herself, her head resting on the pillow. She sighed in satisfaction.

"You are so cute." Scott commented with a laugh. He walked into their closet and took down his blue pajama pants and found a plain white t-shirt. He quickly changed, hanging the same outfit he had been wearing, in preparation for the next day. He got into bed next to her, turning on his side to look at her. "You really scared me today, you know that?"

"Yeah." She murmured, turning to face him. "I'm sorry." She turned her eyes away. "I just thought it was the only way, and I wasn't afraid of dying. I was scared of being away from you." She managed to gaze into his eyes that were now blocked by his sleeping visor.

"Hey," He found her hand underneath the covers. "I'll always be there to protect you, no matter what. I'm going to try harder now, to think of you first and put you first, now that it's hit me that I could lose you so easily." He leaned closer to kiss her.

Jean succumbed to his kiss that still made her melt on the inside. She reached over to pull his body close, longing for his warmth to surround her. He willingly slid closer, his arms snaking around her waist. She knew in her heart that this was where she belonged. Scott's lips belonged on her. He made her feel safe and comfortable, and despite their long relationship, her passion for him burned brightly. She loved him, and she wanted to be with him. He was the only one who could satisfy her heart's need for love, as well as her mind's hunger for an enigma to understand. He was intelligent, and matched her in all ways. He was a natural-born leader. The man could cook. He was perfect for her. As they pulled away from their kiss and settled into each other's arms, she had never been more sure of her decision to marry him.

Her body might long for Logan, but she wouldn't give up the passion, love and trust she had with Scott for one orgasm with a man who couldn't give her half of what Scott already did. Logan was a friend, and though she wanted him, she was willing to sacrifice what she wanted for Scott. She loved him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.**

"Scott, time to get up. You have classes."

Scott mumbled something unintelligible as Jean shook him awake. He opened his eyes blearily as he suddenly yawned, his eyes filling with tears, begging him to sleep once more. He processed her words and glanced at the clock. It was nearly seven o'clock. Classes began at nine, but it was their tradition to get up and eat breakfast together, alone. Often times, it was the only time they could have to themselves outside of their bedroom.

He looked at her towel-clad figure, bringing to mind several things he could do to her right at that moment that would not be looked down on by either of them, but he refrained. He merely smiled at her, lacing his fingers behind his head, surveying her for the moment.

"What?" Jean asked, laughing at him. "Don't even think about it, Scott. I'm starving and you still have to get ready. But tonight, however…" She trailed off, leaning down and fondly kissing his brow. "I'll make your wait worthwhile."

"And if that doesn't get a guy up in the morning, my love, I do not know what will." Scott sat up and pushed himself to his feet, grinning at her, though he was still quite sleepy. He wrapped his arms around her, the cotton towel warm and damp from her showered body. He leaned in to kiss her, and she accepted it, though he still had morning breath. He nudged her nose with his, eliciting a giggle.

"Let me go get dressed and we can go down and get something to eat, okay?" She kissed his lips once more, making him smile.

"Fine." He drew out the vowel, practically whining. Scott took his outfit out of the closet, and walked to the bathroom. He quickly showered and rushed through his morning routine. Brushed teeth, check. Shaved, check. Combed hair, check. He pulled his sweater on over his head, and then entered the bedroom.

Jean sat on the bed, holding his sunglasses in hand. He accepted them with a smile, and screwed his eyes shut as he took his night visor off. He slipped the glasses on, and only opened his eyes when he was sure the glasses were secure on his face. He looked her over. She was dressed in a knee-length jean skirt and a dark brown shirt. Well, at least he thought it was dark brown. He was usually good at identifying different colors through the haze of red, but it could have been green. She stood up, straightening out her clothes.

"How do I look?" She asked, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ears.

Scott might have laughed if she didn't look so scared. She was actually timid, as if she really didn't know how beautiful she was. It then occurred to him that she really didn't. He couldn't understand how she didn't see what he saw. She was beautiful, and she absolutely captivated him.

"Jean, you look amazing." Scott reached over and took her hand. "You are beautiful." He assured her, a smile pulling at his lips. "Come on, let's go."

Together, they entered the hall, hand in hand. It was still quite early, and the halls were silent, save for an occasional bird chirping outside the windows. Early morning light shone through the glass, and the nightly dimmed lamps illuminated their path. Their fingers intertwined, and they reached the main floor.

Xavier's School employed a small staff to cook and do housekeeping work. They were well-loved by the students, though the staff was comprised of non-mutants who held no prejudice. The ladies that prepared the meals were well aware of Scott and Jean's relationship, and left out a romantic breakfast for two. The couple accepted the large tray from the small Hispanic woman who commanded the kitchens with a smile and left for the porch.

"It's a beautiful day." Jean commented, inhaling a deep breath of morning air. "I love it here."

"Me too." Scott agreed as they sat down at the outdoor table. He looked down at the steaming food in front of him. Oh, if he hadn't met Jean first, he probably would have been marrying the ladies that cooked this wonderful food for them. He dug in heartily.

"I'm going to talk to Logan today." Jean announced quietly as she stared down at her food, not having much appetite until she talked to Scott.

"Really?" He asked, washing his food down with a draught of orange juice. "What are you going to tell him?" He reached over and covered her hand with his, offering what support he could.

"That I won't leave you for him. That's all I need to say to him." Jean gave him a small smile. "I'm so sorry I'm doing to this to you, Scott. I love you." She told him, though her inner conflict showed on her face. "I guess this whole mess is simply magnified since our wedding is in two months. I'm excited, but I'm very nervous. It's actually getting close, and I'm scared about marriage, I suppose." She let out a sigh.

Scott nodded. "I'm scared, too. I know you love me, and I love you too." He gave her a smile. "This means a lot to me, that you're being open. It's a little weird," He admitted with a small laugh. "But I think I'll survive." He speared a piece of scrambled egg. "Egg?" He offered innocently, with a smile.

Jean accepted the egg with a giggle, allowing him to feed her. "Thanks." She gave him a smile. "I promise I'll make all of this up to you somehow."

"Well, I have a few ways…" Scott trailed off naughtily, a smirk on his face.

"Scott!" Jean shook her head, laughing.

"What?" He asked innocently. "I was going to say you could grade my papers for me."

Jean snorted. "Sure, Scott. Sure." She gave his shoulder a playful push as they both finished their meals.

Scott glanced down at the watch on his wrist as he carried the tray back inside, Jean waiting outside. There was still fifteen minutes before the students were up and their duties as teachers drew them apart. He sat down across from her, reaching for her hand. He gave her a smile, content to watch her face.

"So, are you teaching your classes today?" He asked.

"No, my telepathy and everything is off right now. I have this raging headache, still." She sighed. "I think the Professor and I are going to work on it together later. I'll find you after your last class, okay?"

"Okay." He smiled at her, but it faded when he saw a large group of students enter the kitchen. "I love you, Jean. Thank you."

"For what?" She asked as they stood up.

"For choosing me." He admitted softly, unable to meet her gaze.

"Scott Summers," Jean shook her head, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his shoulder. "You are so insecure, and I don't understand you. I love you, and only you. I would never throw away what I have with you for a feeling I can learn to ignore. You are what I want and need for the rest of my life. I'm not saying Logan is a bad man, I know you secretly respect him," She looked up at his face. "I'm just saying that you're the one I want."

He nodded, not entirely convinced, but his heart was warmed by her words. He had never truly imagined she would leave him, but it had become a raging possibility, one that frightened him. He trusted her, though. If she said he was the one she wanted, then he would stay with her until he was no longer welcome.

"I'll see you later, I think Bobby froze something." Scott said when shrieks could be heard from where they stood.

"Bye." She murmured, watching him enter the mansion. She followed soon after, but with a different intent. She needed to find Logan.

**XXX**

Jean thanked Alyssa Earnest, one of school's students, as the teenager directed her to the sub-basements, where Logan had last been seen. The redhead wrung her hands nervously; she couldn't remember a time she'd been this anxious. She tapped her toe impatiently against the white floor of the elevator. She was pretty sure that this was taking longer than usual. She cast her eyes heavenward. God was certainly testing her today, wasn't he?

She took a deep breath as the elevator slowed to a stop and the door opened. Annoyed, she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, focusing on the task at hand. Logan knew she had chosen Scott over him, but she did owe him an explanation. She owed herself an explanation. She loved Scott, but the idea of Logan… she shut her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Hey Jean." Came Logan's rough voice.

Her eyes flew open and she saw Logan walking towards her. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his hair slightly wet, obviously having taken a shower after training. She straightened her posture and then gave him a smile.

"Hey Logan. Can we talk?" She asked, gesturing to the Med-Bay door.

"Sure." He nodded, allowing her to walk in first. "You finally decided to leave Cyke for a real man?" He asked, teasingly, giving her a smirk to show her he was only kidding.

"Of course not." She shook her head. "I need to talk to you about that, actually."

"Look, Jean, I understand." He leaned against the wall beside the door.

"You don't, actually." She sighed. "I just want to explain, okay? Maybe because you deserve to know, maybe because I need to explain myself, I'm not sure." Jean shook her head, meeting Logan's eyes.

"Okay." He gave her a nod and a supportive smile.

"I love Scott." Jean began softly. "I cannot describe how deeply I do. He is my best friend, and I can tell him anything. I trust him with… everything. My day-to-day problems, the reasons I can't stand to be in a dark room alone… everything." She dropped her eyes to the floor, unable to stand his gaze. "He's always taken care of me. He's been there for me. He's always kept things… open. If I wanted to leave, I was free to do so." She smiled absentmindedly.

"I was attracted to you." She quickly snapped out of her reverie, turning her attention back to Logan. "I still am. But I'm attracted to Scott too. I love _**him**_." Her words had turned harder and passionate. "I would never, ever give up what I have with him, the honesty, trust, understanding and love, for the mere possibility that we might work out." Her face and words softened. "You are a good friend, Logan, and I don't want to lose you. But you have to understand…" She trailed off. Words were becoming more difficult to find, and her throat simply wouldn't work.

Logan turned his head to the side slightly, still watching her. She seemed flighty and anxious, but her body was advertising the fact she was at peace with her decision. He sighed.

"You're going to marry him, aren't you? He's a bastard, though." He stated. "A complete tightass if I ever met one."

Jean looked at him, raising both eyebrows. He was being completely serious. He wasn't even saying that to try to get her to realize something or make a crack about Scott. She shook her head. "You haven't met Scott, Logan." She explained gently. "You've met Cyclops. He's protective of the kids, and he sees you as a threat to them, or he used to, and the impression stuck."

"Who's Scott then?" The Wolverine asked. He did like her, romantically and as friends. If she was hell-bent on marrying Cyke, then he needed to know what he was like. He wasn't stubborn beyond reasoning. If boundaries were obviously placed and he was fully rebuked, then he would step down. In this case, if Jean managed to convince him that Scott was good for her, he would let it go. He wouldn't stop making Cyke's life hell, but he would stop pissing the kid off by flirting with Jean.

"He's…" Jean trailed off dreamily, looking more and more like a teenage girl by the second. "He's so… I don't even know how to describe it. He's a born romantic, so he does all these little things. We get into fights, but he's the one who somehow can be mature to focus on the problem rather than the fight. He has always been there for me. It's like… when he chose me to pursue and to love, he made me the center of his world. When he's with his students, it's like he's working magic on them. He's an amazing leader, and he always does what's best for the team. He's… selfless." She smiled, letting out a sigh.

"I love him so much. He's definitely not perfect, but he's perfect for me. He's strong when I'm weak. He's light when I'm dark. He makes me want to be a better person because he is so worthy of all praise, but he acts as though he needs to prove himself. He doesn't take for himself unless it's necessary." She crossed her arms over her chest, a smile tugging at her lips. Yes, she loved Scott. She couldn't think of being with or marrying anyone else. He was her match, her soulmate, her lover… in every way, it was right and good for them to be together.

Logan smiled at her, shaking his head slightly, as he walked towards her. He took her hands. "Jean, I understand. I get it. You love Cyke. You two are gonna get married and have kids together." He gave her hands a fond squeeze. "I'm happy for you. I'll be okay." He assured her. "You're in good hands. I trust the kid."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Am I allowed to tell him that?" She asked teasingly.

"If you want your boyfriend run through." He smirked.

"Thank you, Logan. You're making this very easy for me." She leaned in to give him a hug, which he accepted.

"No problem." He smiled as they pulled away.

With a few more friendly words, they parted, Logan heading back to the Danger Room to teach his first defense class of the day and Jean making her way to the main part of the mansion. She leaned her back against the wall of the elevator, going over their conversation in her mind once more. She smiled, proud of herself. It had never truly been Logan that she had wanted so much, but what he represented; freedom and the ability to do whatever she wanted simply because she wanted to do it. She would no longer have that as a married woman because she and Scott would be a team, but when she thought about it, they had been a solid team for so long that she didn't mind the thought. She loved and trusted him.

**XXX**

Jean laid her head back on the couch in the Professor's study, ready to begin exercising her telepathy that had been so off lately. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind to sense the Professor's powerful presence. She relaxed, allowing him to gently probe the different parts of her brain.

"Jean," His voice drifted through her consciousness. "There's something I haven't told you, and for that, I am sorry. You will understand why I apologize. You have extreme power that I suppressed, thinking you were too young to handle the pressure of it. I am now going to take away a few of the psychic fences. It would be dangerous to take them all away at one time, but only a few so you can begin learning how to control it."

"I understand." Her mind whispered back. "I'm frightened."

"I know you are. I'm right here, and you are strong."

_Little did anyone know what was right around the corner, and how strength would be desperately needed in the near future. Humanity thought mutants needed a cure, for there was something wrong with them. The Brotherhood was waiting for their chance, for the reason of their attack. This was it._


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Just so everyone knows, this is an AU fic (obviously, haha) and I will loosely be following X3's plotline, but not exactly, so there will be similarities, but I will tweak some things to fit better with my idea.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.**

Scott looked up as the door to his office opened, expecting to see a student. He had assigned twenty problems from a new section that he introduced earlier that day, and he knew several students needed the extra attention. But no, it was no teenager. Ororo stepped in, giving him a stressed smile. He put down his pen and stacked the worksheets he had been grading with the rest of the things he needed to do, turning his complete attention to his friend.

"Are you okay, Ororo?" He asked, standing up. "What's wrong?"

"You need to see the news." She stated. She turned around, walking out of his office, and he followed her. "It's getting worse. Everyone's scared, and I don't know what to do. All of the children…" She sighed, running her fingers through her newly shortened hair.

"Ororo, calm down. I can help you take care of everything. Just tell me what's going on. I've been in my office since classes ended." He gently took hold of her elbow to offer her some comfort, but she continued walking, and he continued following her.

"Let's just get to the Professor's office. Jean's already there."

It had been a month since the Alkali Lake incident, and Jean's powers were getting stronger by the day. She was constantly with the Professor, learning how to harness her skills. She was often frightened and completely overwhelmed by this, and was leaning on Scott more and more as their wedding day got closer and closer. He was doing his best to be sensitive and understanding, knowing what it was like to not have control over a power, but her stress sometimes made her quite hostile, and they fought often. They, of course, apologized and had great make-up sex, but that wasn't the point. It was difficult to stand her, but he loved her, and he wasn't going to give her any reason to leave.

Scott and Ororo reached the Professor's office and walked in. The TV was on, and the volume was at a reasonable level. He stopped and stared when he saw the image on the screen.

A reporter was speaking to the camera, a microphone with a red number five emblazoned on it in her hand. "Researchers here at Worthington Industries claim to have found a cure for the mutations that have been spreading over the country. No evidence of this claim has been given to the media at this time, but Mr. Worthington, that's Warren Worthington the Second, will be having a press conference later today. He will be answering all questions, and in a two weeks' time, someone very close to Mr. Worthington will be the first cured mutant. The identity of this mystery mutant is currently undisclosed. We will be providing full coverage of the Worthington press conference tonight on the six o'clock news."

The room was absolutely silent, and Scott immediately went to sit by Jean's side. It wasn't for her comfort; she was absolutely proud of her abilities, and it did not hinder her in such a way that would make her wish her powers away. It was for him.

"It's on every channel." Ororo picked up the remote and flipped through the news channels, each showing a different reporter in front of Worthington Industries or free clinics where the cure would be offered. "What are we going to do?"

"Ororo, there is nothing we can do about this… mutant cure." The Professor said gently. "But I only fear for what Erik will do in response. He is what we should be worrying about."

Jean's arms moved around Scott and held him tightly. He leaned his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes behind his glasses, seeing only black as opposed to a world in shades of red. His mind wasn't formulating a plan to ensure the Brotherhood wouldn't make trouble. He honestly didn't care what they would do, because all he could think about - it was becoming an obsession very quickly - was the fact there was a cure. It shook him to his very core with anger that someone would think they needed to be fixed, but at the same time… he was so thankful that he finally had a choice. He could make a choice freely, of his own accord entirely, that would benefit him and his life.

"Is there really a cure?"

Scott's eyes snapped open at Rogue's small, tentative voice breaking through the tense silence in the room. He straightened up, turning his face towards her as Ororo placed both of her hands on the girl's shoulder.

"We don't need a cure. There's nothing wrong with us." Ororo told her gently. "There's nothing wrong with you." She amended her statement, knowing exactly where the girl's mind was going.

Scott stood up, and Ororo turned towards him, dropping her arms to her sides, expecting him to say something. Out of anyone in the room, he was the one who knew what Rogue was going through. She couldn't touch; he couldn't see. Their plights were remarkably similar, but for the first time in his teaching career, he had nothing to say. To deter her from choosing the cure would be to lie to her and to himself. To encourage her to take it would be a betrayal to all anyone had ever worked for. There was nothing he could say, so he walked towards her and paused in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, and then left the room.

"Tell me if there are any updates." Was the only statement he threw over his shoulder.

"You see? He wants the cure too." Rogue spat tearfully, attempting to stay calm but absolutely failing.

"Rogue, let me take you to your room." Ororo put an arm around the teenager's shoulders and led her away from the Professor's office.

Jean sighed, rubbing her temples slightly as she turned her eyes to her mentor. "Professor… do you think he will go so far as to get the cure?" She asked quietly, not wanting her voice to carry. Scott was a solid role model for everyone in the school, and if he turned away… it would be devastating. "I know not being able to see hurts him a lot, but at the same time, he knows he has responsibilities to me, to you, to the school, to everyone!" She took in a deep breath.

"I don't know, Jean." Charles Xavier's voice was candid and honest, and the words came slowly to him, laced with truth as they were. He did not know, and he feared for his surrogate son. "This is a decision only he can make, though it worries me what he might do in a fit of emotion."

Jean stood up suddenly. "I have to go make sure he's okay. I'll see you tomorrow, Professor." She gave Charles a quick smile and then turned on her heel, heading towards the bedroom she shared with her fiancé.

Her heart raced with fear for her lover as she quickly followed the trail he had walked merely moments before. She was worried about the emotional torment that swirled up within him whenever someone made a crack about his glasses. She knew how his heart ached when a child asked him if he could see colors. She had often seen him staring at a picture in a book, or at their closet full of clothes, and she knew, without probing his mind, that he was wondering what colors they actually were. She saw those longing, heartsick looks sometimes when she stepped out in a random outfit, from sweats and a t-shirt to a sophisticated gown for a formal event. He was wondering what she would actually look like without his glasses.

Jean Grey would not change Scott for the world. He was absolutely perfect just the way he was, even with his neurotic tendencies and how obsessive-compulsive he could be at times. She thought he was amazing how he came in from the garage, covered in grease and grime, with that special vibe thrumming from the core of his being. She especially thought his sunglasses were sexy on him. She wouldn't change him, but he was human. He wasn't perfect, and he was painfully aware of that. She wouldn't change him, but he would.

She knocked softly on their door once, opening it to find a dark room, and the only light filtering in was from the hallway lights. She closed the door, her heart filling with compassion.

She saw Scott sitting on their bed, his knees draw up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His forehead was on his left kneecap, and she could see that he was trembling. She slowly bent down to take her high heels off, and then approached him warily.

"Scott? What are you doing?" She asked, her heart breaking to see him so vulnerable and frightened. His raging emotions were pounding her, and she struggled to take it all in.

"Just…" His voice was mangled by the tears that seeped through. "Just sitting in the dark." He answered her, reaching up with one hand to wipe his face. "Are you okay?" He turned his face to her, though he couldn't see her in the dark.

"Oh, Scott, honey," She murmured, sitting down beside him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, kissing his hair as he leaned his head against her shoulder. He relaxed his posture and drew them both into a sleeping position. He leaned into her for comfort and stayed there, not allowing one sob or one tear to leave him.

"I'm fine." He whispered sharply.

Jean shifted slightly so Scott's head was cradled in her arms and she could stroke his cheeks. She did so, slowly and as she peppered kisses on his hair and forehead. They were quiet for several moments as Jean sought for words she could comfort him with, and while Scott fought for control over his emotions. Scott lost that battle, tears seeping from underneath his glasses down his cheeks. Jean felt tears well up as they always did whenever Scott cried. He was always so strong and so brave and courageous and wonderful that it hurt to see such a passionate, loving man in so much pain. She held him closer as his body began to wrack with soft sobs.

"I love you, Scott." Jean whispered, repeating the sentence over and over, unable to say anything else to convey how she felt or what she wanted to do: comfort him. "I love you so much." She murmured directly into his ear.

"Jean, I can't do it. I need to see. I want to see you during our wedding. I want to be able to hold our kids and see their beautiful eyes and… I want to see our kids. I… I know I have things I need to do, and I owe Xavier everything, and it would be a huge betrayal to be so selfish." He pressed his face against her neck, clinging to her. "It's not that I don't want to be a mutant. You know me. But I want to be able to see." His voice fell to a soft whisper, his breath tickling her skin

"Scott," Jean began softly. "I will love you no matter what you decide. I know you know that this isn't even completely your decision anymore, simply because you've given so much to this school. I have faith that you will do what you know is best for you, for me, and for everyone else." She kissed his lips gently, smiling in their kiss as he responded tentatively. "I love you, Scott. Whatever you decide to do, I will follow you anywhere."

Scott looked up at her. "If I… did decide to take the… Cure," He chose his words carefully. "Would you be there with me?" He asked, trying to take out the desperation in his voice, but an undertone slipped through.

"Of course I would." Jean found his hand in the dark and tangled her fingers with his.

Scott's body relaxed against hers, letting out a deep breath as he snuggled closer to her. They held each other in silence for a few moments, and Jean closed her eyes. She had her own ideas of what decision he should make, but she knew it wasn't her place to tell him what to do. She wanted him to be happy with who he was, simply because she was happy with who he was, and if it took the Cure, then it would be worth it.

"Thank you, Jean." He whispered softly, slowly standing up. "Really, thank you."

Jean smiled at him as he flicked the light on, and her heart stopped when she saw him go immediately towards their closet, obviously going to pack an overnight bag in case he needed another set of clothes. She sat patiently on the bed, watching him walk back and forth from the closet and the bedroom.

"I need the Cure. I need it." He muttered, almost to himself more than to Jean. "But I can't!" He exclaimed, taking the clothes back from the bedroom to the closet. He walked back out, the pile in his hands. "But I have to. I can't go through my entire life seeing red. But that's not so bad." He stopped. "I can see, and I'm so lucky to have you," Scott smiled at her. "And we're going to be married and have beautiful children, and I don't know…" He sighed. "I want to see our babies." He whispered to the air.

"Scott, calm down." Jean said, standing up and hugging him from behind. "You're forgetting your students." She reminded him quietly of one of his many priorities. Perhaps she was wrong to encourage him not to be selfish, but she knew as well as he did that anything he did or said would influence the kids.

Scott closed his eyes behind his glasses and leaned into his fiancée's touch. "You're right. I can't get the Cure, no matter what I think I need. I'm their teacher, and their leader. They look to me, and I want them to be proud of what they are. I…" He pulled away from her hug and sat down onto their bed.

"They look to you, they really do, Scottie." She teased him with a small smirk. "They need you. But I think they would understand if you wanted to see." She sat down beside him, taking his hand.

"No." Scott shook his head. "I can't. I cannot, in good conscience, defy everything I've stood up for. If I can't see our children or I can't see you clearly… I'm just lucky to be able to see." He shuddered as memories of his eyes taped shut assaulted him. He turned his eyes to her, though covered in a film of red as she was. "You're beautiful, Jean, and I love you so much. I think I need you more and more everyday."

"Of course you do." She pecked his lips, a grin forming on her face. "I know."

Scott chuckled, making a slight face. "I should probably talk to Rogue, shouldn't I?"

"I think it would mean a lot to her." Jean dropped her hand to his knee, lightly tracing patterns on his black pants, her finger slowly moving upwards. "I'll wait here." She smiled sweetly up at him.

Scott stood up, looking down at her. Jean gently probed his mind to get a read of his emotions (those glasses were sexy, but it was hard to tell what feeling he was trying to convey sometimes), and felt a rush of excitement as she connected with his prominent emotion: lust. She looked down demurely, blushing slightly. It was still so flattering and exciting when Scott openly showed his desire for her.

"I'll see you later." He smirked at her, leaning down to join their mouths in a heated kiss.

Scott quickly left, knowing he was leaving her in suspense, and tried to take his mind off of all the awesome mental images that sprung into the forefront of his consciousness. He paused in his steps, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to think about what he would say to the young girl.


	5. Chapter 5

**0Author's Note: Sorry this chapter is rather short. I spent a couple of days just letting it simmer, and I found I couldn't add anything to the end that would really make it longer or better. GASP! Sexual innuendo is present in this chapter, but nothing too huge.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.**

Scott poked his head into the game room that was filled with teenagers, looking around for familiar white stripes. "Bobby," He called to the young man who was playing foosball. "Where's Rogue?" He asked, trying to remain casual.

"Uh…" Bobby turned away from the game, allowing Alyssa Earnest and Emily Rachery to take his spot. "I think she's up in her room." He shrugged. "I'm not sure, though. She should be downstairs soon, we're going to eat dinner outside." He remembered, quickly glancing down at his outfit to make sure it was something a little better than his normal clothes. He smoothed down his shirt self-consciously.

"Thank you." Scott nodded, and then turned around. He didn't think the situation was so dire that he needed to disturb her in her room, but he definitely would wait for her to come down.

Luckily, it was only six or seven minutes until she appeared at the top of the stairs. Scott met her eyes as she looked down at him in fear. Her quick steps were replaced by a slow march down the stairs, her good mood at the thought of seeing her boyfriend quickly disappearing.

"Rogue, can I talk to you for a moment?" He asked neutrally, not unaware of the fact Bobby was hesitant to leave the game room and greet his girlfriend. The kid was only eighteen, but he knew when he needed to back down.

"Um, sure, Mr. Summers." She agreed, and he led her down into a side hallway. "What do you need?"

"Rogue, it's about the Cure." He stated bluntly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not saying I'm forbidding you to get it. That is completely your decision and your decision alone."

"Then what do you want?" Her fearful, tentative voice was now shot with Southern heat.

"You need to think about it, and not just act on emotion. Research all of the new findings that come in daily about it. Talk to Dr. Grey and see if she's found anything about it. Dr. McCoy should be visiting sometime; speak to him. Mr. Worthington is coming to stay in three weeks, so he should know more than anyone else. Don't get into a line in front of a clinic until you know everything there is to know about this Cure."

Rogue seemed slightly stunned, though it shouldn't have come as any sort of surprise to her. Scott Summers was a teacher, and a very good one. He encouraged research, questions and curiosity. He led discussions in the rare Literature class he taught when there was no one else to do so, and helped his students open their minds to the possibilities, to the fact that maybe there is no right or wrong answer when it comes to a subject; it might be the attitude with which one approaches a topic that determines the morality or immorality.

"I don't have to know everything about it." Rogue replied stubbornly. "I want to be able to touch my friends and not be so frightened of brushing elbows with someone in the hall!"

"And I want to see Jean and my kids, when they come." Scott answered her evenly, betraying no emotion. Though he had decided to not take the Cure, should the opportunity arise, it still hurt. "I've decided that staying true to what I was created to be is worth more than that. I can understand your feelings, but sometimes… feelings are misleading."

Rogue opened her mouth to snap, to say that her situation was completely different, but there were no words available to her. It was as though the part of her brain that controlled her vocabulary had completely shut down. She sighed, looking away, and nodded slightly.

"Just think about it, Rogue. I'll see you tomorrow in class." He gave her a friendly smile and then left her in the hallway, heading back up the staircase.

Scott pulled out his cell phone and dialed a familiar number.

"_Warren Worthington speaking."_

"Warren, I need to talk to you." He said into the phone.

"… _Oh. Scott. I see you've seen the news."_

Scott smirked wryly at the tone of defeat in Warren's voice. "Yes, I have. I'm not calling to judge you, you know I only do that about the women you date." He teased, trying to lighten his own mood. Warren, though quiet and reserved, was usually a content person, able to make jokes and be happy. Scott wasn't familiar with this side of his best friend who was going to be his best man at his wedding. "But I do want to know why you are getting it. You're my best friend, and you need to talk to me, man."

Scott heard Warren sigh on the other side of the line.

"_I just want my dad to be proud of me."_ Warren admitted softly, barely whispering and not bothering to ask how Scott knew it would be him getting the Cure. It wasn't often the two talked about their pasts and their parents. Both of their pasts hadn't been the best, and even though they were best friends, there were some things best friends couldn't talk about.

Scott sighed. "I know, Warren. I know. Just… I don't want you to do something like this for anyone but yourself." He ran his hand through his hair. "I wanted to get it. One of my students wants it. She can't touch or she seriously injures people. Jean and I are getting married, and… this is just a huge new thing. Are you busy?"

"_You know it depends on what you want."_

Scott didn't miss the fact Warren hadn't commented on his small speech, but continued on anyway. "I think you should come and stay at the mansion for these last few weeks before the wedding. Just to stay, you don't have to take time off of work. I think I really need you here for support, man."

"_Then I'm there."_ If nothing else, Warren was an amazing friend. He knew what it meant to have constant support with you. He knew how important it was, so whenever someone needed it, he gave it. _"I'll be over in an hour. Tell Jean I said hello, and be a dear and find me some of those wonderful cookies that really cute Russian girl makes whenever I come over. I think I love her."_

Scott chuckled. "Fine, fine. I'll see you. Thanks, Warren."

"_No problem, Scott. And thanks, too."_

Scott closed his phone and placed it back into his pocket. Adjusting his glasses on his face, he went over a mental checklist of all the things he needed to accomplish, and knew Jean was on the absolute top of the list. He swallowed the urge to grin wolfishly (for it reminded him too much of Logan) and kept a sedate pace, in case any students should walk by and wonder why Mr. Summers was running.

"Honey, I'm home." Scott announced sarcastically as he opened the door to their room.

"Hello, honey." Jean purred, standing up and taking hold of his tie, pulling him close. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." Scott smirked as he recognized her desiring eyes, the familiar stance with some sort of seductive air she managed, and the way her gentle fingers touched him. They had made love many, many times, but every time, it was as though they were rediscovering each other, and that was why he wasn't against this sort of activity, especially at the spontaneous hour of six o'clock, an hour before they would have to appear in public for dinner. He set his hands on her hips, his thumbs hooking around the waistband of her somehow incredibly sexy sweatpants that she had changed into. "Now, why do you happen to look so sexy," His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, "That I could ravish you right here on the floor?"

Jean raised an eyebrow as she focused on his lips that were merely inches from hers. She gave a sexy chuckle. "Because I have a man who makes me _**burn**_ with desire. And he's got a sexy motorcycle." She replied, her voice at the same level as Scott's.

"Oh really?" Scott slowly pushed her up against the wall, pressing his body against hers. "Now, who could that be?"

"I'm not sure." Jean smiled sweetly. "Who do you think it is?"

"It might be me." He offered innocently. "But if it's not, then I can't be held responsible for sleeping with you. You're just… too… sexy." He dipped his head slightly to press his lips against hers. Their sensual kiss lasted for several moments, but then passion and desire took over their minds.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.**

Warren Worthington the Third, dressed impeccably in an Armani suit, closed the driver's door to his sleek, black personal BMW and adjusted his clothing. He had been moments from a meeting when he received Scott's call, and had rushed things as quickly as one could rush such things. He was ten minutes later than he had planned, and he was worried that the cookies the pretty Russian girl made wouldn't be so warm and perfectly gooey. He reached into his pocket and pulled his cell phone out, silencing it. He had a feeling he and Scott needed to discuss some things.

He walked confidently towards the door that was so familiar and dear to him, smiling at the small plaque that labeled the great mansion as a school for the gifted. He raised a fist and politely knocked, stepping back and slipping his hands into his pockets to wait. Knocking was simply a courtesy at a school with at least two telepaths in constant residence.

Warren smiled pleasantly at the curious female face that popped into view through the small glass window beside the door. The door opened a moment later after the locks were shifted out of place, and an older student of high school age smiled awkwardly in greeting.

"Um, hello, may I help you?" She asked, her left thumb resting in one of her belt loops and her other hand on the wooden threshold.

Warren nodded to her, straightening his suit jacket. "Yes, I'm looking for Mr. Summers, one of your teachers. I'm a friend of his; my name's Warren Worthington." His congenial smile dropped when the girl flinched noticeably, hurt and a sudden desire to protect her beloved school from this man who encouraged quitting because things were hard flashing in her innocent brown eyes. Warren's heart broke for this girl. She was a teenager and was by no means an angel, but she was still so innocent and naïve in some ways. Now, even his name slashed hearts in two. He inwardly despised his father for that.

The girl lowered her gaze to the floor. "Sorry." She muttered, embarrassed her emotions had bubbled to the surface in front of a stranger.

"It's okay. I get that a lot." He regained his friendly attitude, smiling easily. His demeanor was slightly more professional than before. He didn't want to offend this girl, but he couldn't shake the sickening feeling of hurt from the bottom of his stomach.

"Yeah." She looked over her shoulder. "Would you like to come in? Mr. Summers is just in the next room, since dinner's going on and all." She gestured to the expansive entrance room with her thumb.

"Thank you." Warren said politely.

The girl walked down the hall, towards the dining room. Warren surveyed the foyer, feeling as though he was finally home after the many years he'd been away. The mansion would always be home. His personal penthouse could never compare. This was where he was safe, where it was okay to have wings and to fly. He loved being successful and he loved being a part of a business. He absolutely loved it, but he was always scared when he walked down the busy streets or when he was in his office. Here, in the mansion where he'd spent the majority of his teenage years, he was finally safe and welcomed. Here, he wasn't a Worthington. He was Warren, and he was a mutant, and that was okay.

"I'm so glad you're here, Warren." Scott broke through Warren's thoughts, a grin on the brunette's face and a plate of delicious-smelling cookies in his hand.

Warren grinned, shaking Scott's hand and grabbing a cookie with another. He was in his mid-twenties and was a well-respected businessman. That was true. It didn't mean he stopped loving cookies as much as he had when he was a teenager. If Jean could embarrassingly lust after Scott, then he could scarf down a plateful of cookies, couldn't he?

"Me too." He spoke around his mouthful. He swallowed. "My God, could these be any more amazing?"

Scott laughed. "Why won't you just ask her on a date or something?"

"Can you imagine what would happen to me if she already had a boyfriend? I've met a couple Russians that my dad knows. They're scary, Scott. I don't want to be reduced to only one wing." Warren cringed at the thought of one of his beautiful wings being ripped off.

"But can you imagine if she didn't? She goes home to only her cat at night, and she desperately wishes that the adorably cute, handsome and rich guy that comes around the mansion to see his even-more-cute-handsome-and-adorable-friend-who-happens-to-already-be-engaged-gosh-darn-it would just ask her out?" Scott placed a hand over his heart. "Now that would just be tragic, and wouldn't be welcoming of our immigrant friends, wouldn't you say so, Warren?"

"Oh, that would simply be terrible." Warren replied, giving a dramatic sniff for effect. "Fine. I will ask her out before I leave today."

"Ask who out?" Jean asked as she came down from the stairs, not one hair in her casual bun out of place and not one crease on her business suit.

"Warren's in love with Justine, the Russian girl." Scott intoned seriously.

"Wow, Warren, don't you think she's a little out of your league?" Jean inquired playfully as she wrapped her friend into a hug. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, yeah, I feel loved, Jean." He rolled his eyes.

Jean looked at Scott, and met his eyes through his sunglasses. She didn't have to read his mind to know the two needed to talk. She could only help her fiancé so much, and knew that if the two finally started to share how they saw the Cure… maybe they could be saved. She worried for Warren as she worried for Scott. She didn't want to lose either of them to their own fears and insecurities. She kissed Scott gently in farewell.

"I'll see you boys later." She smiled at them, and then walked down the hall.

"Whoa." Warren murmured after Jean had disappeared. "Still so way out of your league."

"What, like she's in yours?" Scott asked skeptically.

Warren turned to Scott with a smug grin spreading over his flawless features. "Of course she is. She's beautiful, I'm beautiful…" Scott cut him off.

"Beautiful and effeminate." Scott inserted helpfully. "Oh, not to mention caustic, arrogant and conceited."

Warren waved his friend's comments off, unconcerned. "Merely details. All pales in light of my beauty." He struck a heroic pose and they both laughed heartily.

**XXX**

"So, what, your dad just randomly comes up with an idea of a cure because his son has wings?" Scott asked as the two strolled about the expansive grounds of the Xavier School, Warren in a more comfortable pair of designer jeans and a long-sleeved turtleneck with slits in the back for his wings.

The blond man crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the grass. His brown eyes were troubled, and he seemed at a loss for words. He had always declined to talk about his father or his family. He and Scott had always been close, but never that close. The prospect of admitting out loud that his father wanted to change him was too disgusting to handle. Now, there was no other way. Scott knew what he was going through. Scott could understand. Even without an uncontrollable mutation, Scott would understand. They were best friends! Warren was going to be Scott's best man, after all. Now was a difficult time for everyone, and they couldn't be bottling everything up. Still, it was so hard.

"Well, yeah, actually." Warren admitted candidly. "I guess he wanted me to be perfect, and sprouting wings wasn't perfect. It meant I was different. We tried covering them up, and I still wear that damn harness everyday to hide what I am." He ran his hand through his gentle curls. "I hate and despise him for everything he's done, but I'm addicted to the idea of his love. If he can't love me now, how can I trust he'll love me later? Won't he just find another reason to hate me and think I'm a failure?" He let out a yell of frustration, punching the air to vent his anger. "I hate him, Scott! I hate him with every fiber of my being! I hate him. I hate that I work for him. I hate that he has always criticized everything I do. I know he loves me. I know he does. The intellectual part of my brain knows that and trusts that." He raked his fingers through his blonde curls that were definitely displaced from their previous state of absolute perfection. He was so tired of being perfect, of having to have the best things and having the best behavior. He hated constantly being fawned over by girls looking to up their political and financial status. Wasn't he allowed to be happy? Wasn't he allowed to do what he wanted for once? Or was the world he had been thrust into, a world of elitism and perfectionism, only concerned with his actions, not his heart or mind?

Warren paused, sighing. "At the same time, I still doubt that what he's doing, he's doing for me. I sometimes think…"

"What?" Scott urged gently, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I sometimes think that he's trying to protect his own image. He's trying to protect himself, and he's damaging me in the process. I'm not a child anymore. He has to face the reality of who and what I am. I am a mutant. I can fly around and I have superior strength. My codename is Angel, for Christ's sake! That is who I am. I'm not some poster boy for a science lab. I'm an X-Man, and he just needs to deal with that or get the hell out of my life!" Warren exploded, his chest suddenly many tons lighter as he crossed his arms over it.

"Finally, you're realizing what I've been trying to tell you all these years, man." Scott grinned brightly. "You should be proud of who you are, Warren. You've been my best friend for so long, and I can't stand to sit on the sidelines and watch you get tortured over and over." He cast his eyes back towards the mansion. "This place is what we've been standing for since we were kids. It's amazing that the good guys are still hanging on, even when the evil guys are just trying to beat us into the floor. It's amazing that life still goes on."

"Yeah." Warren agreed quietly. "And what about you? Are you going to take the Cure?"

Scott shoved his hands into his pockets, agitated by the question. "I still really want to. Sometimes, at random moments, I'll be all resolved and sure that I am, but then I just can't. I can't turn my back on those kids. They look up to me. I'm their teacher, and they sure as hell watch me if they don't listen to me in class." The brown-haired man sighed. "I don't know what I want. Jean says she'll be there with me no matter what, but I keep thinking she wants me to keep my powers."

"Of course she'd say that. She can hide her powers." Warren interjected bitterly.

"I know. She doesn't know what we go through. She knows it's hard for me, but she doesn't really know exactly how much it hurts when someone points out my glasses, or when we go to art museums, and I can't tell what we're looking at." Scott glanced at his friend. "And you? You can't even go outside in a short-sleeved shirt anymore. Everyday, you're all bundled up because you have to hide what you are. That just isn't right. We're trying to change that, but it just isn't right." He sighed, his heart aching at the injustice of the world they lived in. "But is it worth it, giving up what you can do? I mean, I've seen you when you fly. You love it. Do you really want to give that up?"

"I love flying, I do. You have that right." Warren sighed, seeing Scott's logic. He did want his father to see him as a worthy person, but he loved his wings and being able to fly. It was his only way to escape from the bonds of his job and of the world. He finally felt free when he was soaring through the skies and taking dangerous dives. He nodded. "I guess you have a point. I still keep thinking that it's what's expected of me, that I have to do it."

Scott nodded. "How old are you?"

"What?" Warren asked, his deep thoughts interrupted by such a random question.

"You heard me, how old are you?" Scott reiterated.

"I'm twenty-seven." Warren replied, unsure of where the conversation was going.

"You've been a legal adult for nine years. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You are free to do what you want, when you want, as long as you don't break any laws." Scott clapped his blond friend on the back. "Cheer up, man. Everything's going to be great. After all, I'm getting married in four weeks."

"Well, that's what we're hoping." Warren teased, glad for the subject change. He couldn't possibly tell Scott that he was still going to get the Cure. Scott was safe thinking that their talk had changed his mind. It hadn't, but Scott would lose sleep over this. Warren knew him. He also knew that Scott needed to get all the sleep he could with all of his responsibilities, not to mention actually teaching, and maybe getting some time in to breathe. "As long as Jean doesn't find someone better, ME, and run away."

Scott laughed. "Like she'd run away with a spoiled brat like you."

"Hey, I cannot help it if I've got the looks, the brains and the cash." Warren brushed invisible dirt from his own shoulders, and then straightened up. "So, your wedding, man. You nervous?"

"No, I'm completely fine." Scott replied dryly. "Of course I'm nervous! I freak out every morning when I realize it's one day closer. It's not like I'm going to run out on her. I want to marry her, it's just really, really scary." He glanced around. "I mean, we're going to be married, which is awesome, but is also really freaky. Not that we weren't pretty much married already, but still. It's going to be official and there's going to be a ceremony, and it has to be perfect because Jean's going crazy over it."

Warren snickered, nodding. "I understand what you mean. Jean's really crazy. Not just when she's planning something, just all the time. Even then, you're so lucky to be marrying her. She's so hot, man." He joked.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your eyes off my woman." Scott gave Warren a push, attempting to be threatening.

The two men laughed, and continued on their walk, moving further away from the mansion, catching up on odd things that held no great significance, but were a relief to speak about after such weighty topics.

"So, how are you going to ask Justine out?" Scott asked randomly when they lapsed into a rare silence.

"Hot Russian girl?" Warren asked. "I have no idea. Should I go in and flaunt my flirting skills or what?" He absentmindedly tugged at his turtleneck, giving Scott a glance at his anxiety at such a prospect. "As you know, I'm not exactly experienced at this stuff."

"Oh, I know." Scott teased him. "Maybe you should bake her some cookies and tie a note onto it. It's a great bridge from what she's been doing for you, showing that she 'digs' you, to the fact you 'dig' her." He said logically.

"You're a freak." Warren commented, shaking his head slightly. "But that's a brilliant idea, thanks!" He grinned.

"You're welcome… I think." Scott chuckled. "Are you okay, man?"

"I think so. Or I will be. Thanks, Scott. I really needed that." Warren smiled sheepishly. "But I was supposed to come over here and support you."

"Yeah, well, I lied." Scott shrugged, slinging an arm over Warren's shoulders as they walked back towards the mansion. "I wasn't about to let you get the cure. All of the girls would be disappointed. Not to mention Justine would never go out with you without the wings and all. I swear, War, you've got a good set-up there, the whole angel look. You are rocking the angelness."

Warren rolled his eyes at Scott's rare jests and idiocy. He forced himself to remain perfect and stoic, and Warren knew the X-Men's leader needed a chance to be candid and real with a friend, and not just with Jean. Scott was a great leader and was one of the most intelligent men alive in Warren's opinion, but he was still human. Warren wasn't about to let his best friend drown underneath the pressure of being a leader, teacher and perfect fiancé at one time. If Scott needed to act like a complete nerd and idiot, then Warren was more than open to the idea of laughing at Scott's antics.

"You're on, lover boy." Scott smirked as he pulled the backdoor to the mansion open and pushed Warren in.

Both men ducked down like spies, as they had done in their youth, and looked for any sign of Justine. Except for a slight trace of her lavender perfume, she seemed to be long gone. The small Hispanic woman who ran the Xavier kitchens approached them, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

"If you are looking for Justine, she went home already." She gave both men a friendly pat on the back.

"Go, Angelic Princely Boy, go, go, go!" Scott murmured as they stood up, pretending to be adult men, though he was saying Warren's fake codename, one they had come up with when they were younger and had been setting up practical jokes. "A.P.B., your mission is on the way, Laser Laser Shot is out."

Warren swallowed his laughter. "Very well, Laser Laser Shot, Angelic Princely Boy out!"

Scott, too, suppressed his giggles and left the kitchen, trusting the kitchen staff to make sure Warren didn't blow the school up.

Reflecting on their conversation, Scott found some solace in knowing Warren was going to be there for the last couple of weeks. He had a feeling he was going to need his best friend's support more than ever. Just a hunch, though.


	7. Chapter 7

**I know this chapter is VERY long, but it's to make up for the shorter ones lately. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men.**

Scott clenched his jaw as he ducked behind a smoldering car wreck. The sounds of battle raged all around him, but he could not see or hear his teammates. Something had exploded, and separated the X-Men. It was times like this he wished he and Jean had a psychic link; that would definitely come in handy. He sighed in frustration, and then dove to the side as four soldiers broke through the smoke and began to shoot at him.

"You're under arrest, mutant." The soldier's deep voice called out, somehow reaching over the din.

"I'd love to see that." Scott muttered condescendingly, but then cried out as a bullet grazed his shoulder. He fell backwards, grinding his teeth together. He took a shaky breath, almost choking on the smoke, and pressed the side of his visor, dispatching all four of them as they got closer.

Suddenly, the Danger Room session was ended, and Scott looked down at his arm. It still hurt; that part of the Danger Room was real. All pain one sustained inside felt real, but there was no damage to any limbs or lives. He stood up, waiting for the pain messages to subside, and then turned to his team.

"You may go. I'll go over our performance and give you the rundown tomorrow." He nodded to the team, which now consisted of himself, Ororo, Jean and Logan. Ororo and Logan left the room, each headed for a shower and a sandwich.

Scott let out a yell of frustration, raking his fingers through his hair. "Damn it, Jean, I can't believe I acted so unprofessionally!" He sighed, and leaned against the wall. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He took a bad performance heavily on his shoulders. He was the team's leader, and perhaps it was stereotypical of a leader, but he truly felt that it was his duty and his responsibility to make sure every mission went flawlessly, and if it didn't, it was a reflection on his incompetence as a leader.

Jean knew Scott had always felt this way, and had taken on leadership before the concept of any X-Men had entered anyone's mind. In every basketball game they played, during every skirmish of Charades skill, he seemed to blanket his teammates in a mantle of support and decisiveness. Those days were long gone, but whenever he stepped up, fear seemed to melt away, and the team knew they could do it, simply because Scott said they could. She couldn't have been more proud of him, but it worried her. He always took every hit hard. Perhaps harder than he should. She had obsessed over him during her psychology elective at her hospital, thinking of his decisions and personality nuances constantly.

Jean didn't move to shorten the distance between him, and instead looked at him calmly. "You can't be perfect. You can't always be the hero. You are allowed to make mistakes as well. I know you want to make sure everything goes well, and I know the X-Men are important to you." She reached out telepathically and gently brushed the edges of his mind, her way of comforting him when physical contact and words were not enough to ease his soul. She felt his mind relax immediately. "Scott, you push yourself constantly. On the weekend, you're up at the same time during the week, and you come down here, or into the work out room. You go running for an hour after classes. And on top of that, we work out the kinks of our wedding whenever we have a free moment. You never turn away a student that needs help or a listening ear. You are a great man, but you can't let yourself burn out."

Scott sighed. Of course he knew she was right, but the thought of accepting his own imperfection… that would be like giving up. "I have to work hard, Jean. I have to." He argued back, though softly. "If I don't, I'm letting everyone down."

"How?" She asked in return, unable to understand his constant need to push himself to his limits and beyond. She knew he was strong. She had seen him fight; he was beyond powerful. He was exactly what the X-Men needed in a leader, what the kids needed in a teacher, and what she needed in a man. But it was never enough for him. "How could you possibly be letting anyone down?" This time, she did walk over to him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. He adjusted himself and stood up straighter, his hands on her waist.

Scott took a deep breath, and it was one Jean recognized as the one he would always take before admitting some deep secret of his soul. She gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze, encouraging him.

"I'm never good enough. I continually make mistakes, whether with you, or with Logan, or the team or the students. Maybe I will never be perfect, but that doesn't mean I should stop trying to be the absolute best. Not just that I can be… because if I'm not perfect, if I'm not the best, then I'm nothing." He murmured hesitantly. He would never be comfortable with sharing his feelings, whether it was due to the stupid stereotype that he had to be a man or his fear that she would never accept him because of his past and inadequacies.

"How could you be nothing? You're everything to me." Jean whispered to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She closed her eyes when he leaned his head on her shoulder. "I know how you feel, but it seems so strange that you feel that way. You know how you always tell me how beautiful I look?"

"Well, yeah." He confirmed. "You always do."

Jean smiled. "I never feel that way. But to you, it's so obvious. You are so hard on yourself because all you can see are your flaws. But to me, all I can see is you, Scott. Your strength, your love for the kids, how you move through the world, with such confidence and humility. I can't understand why you won't just give yourself a break." She pulled away and held his face between her hands, staring into his eyes through his sunglasses. She smiled, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Let's do something tonight."

The moment after Jean proposed the date, Scott's mind was filled with excuses. He had grades to input and progress reports to post on his wall for the students, not to mention the Blackbird was dying for his attention. He pushed the reasons not to go away and smiled, nodding. He needed this and he knew it too. Scott kissed her firmly, slipping his arms around her waist.

"Sure, yeah, that's a great idea, Jean. Thanks." He gave her a grateful smile. "I love you. You're the best."

Jean returned his smile. "I love you, too." She checked her watch. "I have to go. I'm helping Emily study for the exam next week. I'll see you at six?" She stayed within his warm embrace, loath to leave.

"Six." He affirmed with a nod. They stood there together for several long moments before Scott sighed. "I promised Warren I'd help him get ready for his date."

"Date?" Jean asked, smirking as she realized she would **need** to stay in her fiancé's arms for a longer time.

Scott nodded, noting the same thing Jean did and held her closer. "Yeah. After almost blowing up the kitchens, he made some brownies and asked her out when she got here in the morning. I think he really likes her." He smiled absently as he thought of his best friend finally finding someone who knew he was a mutant and liked him for it. Warren had been awesome when he and Jean had gotten together. Scott was so excited to take on the best friend role again.

"Yeah." She agreed. Jean hadn't been exceptionally friendly with Justine, but she knew the young Russian woman well enough. The blonde had fawned over Warren for the longest time, but thought it was impossible. He was handsome, intelligent, charming, smart, and very, very rich. He could have any beautiful woman among America's elite. The only flaw he could boast of was a streak of immaturity that sometimes came through his smooth, immaculate front. Yet somehow, his eyes had fallen on her.

"I'll see you at six." Scott sighed and kissed her forehead. "Thanks, Jean. I love you."

Jean smiled contentedly. "I love you too. Bye." She pulled away from his welcoming embrace and walked towards the hallway and the women's locker room. She pulled her hairband out as she left, glancing over her shoulder. She flashed him a sexy smile and let the door close behind her.

Scott grinned and decided against running a quick exercise, and followed after her, but entered the men's locker room. Temptation was hard to ignore.

**XXX**

"Okay, how about this?" Warren Worthington asked, smoothing down his blonde hair as he exited his closet, having donned a new outfit.

After a sleek Ralph Lauren suit, two sets of jeans and casual t-shirts, two sets of slacks and button-down shirts, and the worst turtleneck and slacks combination in existence, Warren had chosen a pair of midnight-wash jeans, his favorite pair. To compliment the dark color of his pants, he had picked a dark blue t-shirt with fashionably faded lettering that boasted some physical education marking. Underneath it was a black, long-sleeve shirt, and over all of that, a broken in leather jacket. Warren grinned when he saw the impressed look on Scott's face and did a model's turn.

"Yeah, yeah, you like?" Warren asked, grinning in the confidence that could come from knowing one was highly desirable and had a great set of clothes on. As they say, clothes maketh the man, and good looks and cash don't hurt either.

Scott chuckled, standing up from where he'd sprawled out on Warren's bed. He walked up to his friend and jokingly creased the blonde's collar and gave him a push. "Yeah, I think you look okay. It's just dinner and then a walk in the park, a good first date. You're not focused on a huge screen and you are talking to each other, and you'll have food to distract you if you start ranting about… whatever you rant about. I've learned to tune it out. Justine hasn't been around you long enough to even see a need to." Scott smirked. "Just… don't screw this up."

"Hey, you had a disastrous first date with Jean. It was awkward, you spilled ice cream on her shirt, and it was hardly romantic at all. I have learned from your mistakes, my good friend." Warren walked over to his mirror to check his reflection. "Okay," He glanced down at his watch. "Okay, I have to go now." He turned to his best friend, obviously nervous. "You sure this is going to be okay?"

Scott nodded, giving a sincere smile. "Yes, yes, I promise. Wallet?" Warren nodded, patting his bulging back pocket. "Cell phone?" The Worthington heir tapped his front right pocket. "Gum in case you decide to kiss her because she just looks oh-so-pretty in that lighting?" Warren, blushing and embarrassed, pulled the three sticks of spearmint gum from his right pocket. "Yeah, I think you're ready." Scott finished with a grin.

Warren nodded, taking a deep breath and walked towards to the door. Scott reached into his pocket, and then looked up. "Wait, no, you're not."

"What could I possibly have forgotten?!" Warren's voice nearly shrieked, his brown eyes wide with terror. He needed this date to go absolutely perfect, and this was not good on his nerves.

"Car keys." Scott tossed over a set of keys.

Warren looked down at them. "Are you serious? You're giving me the Corvette for the night? Your other woman? The freaking Corvette?" Warren laughed loudly, bounding over and giving Scott a bear hug. "You are awesome! I so owe you!"

"Yeah, you do." Scott admitted, patting Warren awkwardly on the back. "Go have fun. Jean and I have a date too, and even though I'm already getting married to her doesn't mean I don't need to prepare myself." He grinned. "Have fun."

Scott watched Warren run out the door, attempting to calm his excitement for his friend. As a rule, Warren had never been a big dater. He was rather shy and timid when it came to women, and it took a lot of courage for him to ask someone out. Justine, in Warren's mind, was definitely worth the effort and nervousness. Scott looked heavenward.

"He's going to need some help tonight, Big Guy." Scott muttered. "Just don't let him start talking about the time we ate so much cheese we threw up orange for hours." He winced at the memory. The cheese had been awesome, but several pounds of cheese between the two of them just was not a good thing. It wasn't a good thing for anyone.

Scott glanced down at his own watch. It was ten minutes from six, and he silently was glad that he had changed from his teaching clothing two hours earlier. Gone were the tan slacks and the blue polo shirt. In their place was Jean's favorite outfit: medium-wash jeans that were faded down the front and slightly distressed at the knees, with a black t-shirt hidden by a dark green hoodie. Though summer was not yet over, the nights had turned cold, so over his hoodie he wore a dark brown jacket in case Jean needed it later. He straightened his glasses and walked down the grand staircase.

"Mr. Summers?"

Scott turned his head to see Bobby awkwardly pushing himself away from the wall. "Yes, Bobby? Is there anything I can help you with?" He asked with a genial smile.

"Um… yeah, actually." Bobby rubbed the back of his neck. "Could I get some advice?"

Scott snuck a glance at his watch. He had five minutes before Jean was ready. She was always prompt and on time, especially for their dates. No delay with Jean or help the kid… Scott forced himself to nod and continue smiling.

"Sure." Scott agreed and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's going on?"

Bobby sighed, looking at the floor. "It's Rogue. I know she wants to get the Cure, but I don't want her to. Whenever we're out anywhere, there'll be couples and she'll stare at them. I mean, I want that too, but I don't need it. I just don't know what to tell her anymore. She doesn't listen to me when I tell her I like her how she is." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "We've both been really depressed lately, since John up and turned his back on us, the jackass he is," He said, almost longingly. "And I think it's tearing our relationship apart."

Bobby finally was at the end of his rope. He was obsessed with being the perfect boyfriend, the perfect student, the perfect friend, but he couldn't do it. He didn't know how to comfort his girlfriend. He needed her, and he wanted her to be happy and content with who she was. She was a girl, so she wasn't going to always be content, but he wanted to do what he could to help her. Instead of drawing closer, it seemed she was pulling away. He didn't know what to do.

Scott considered Bobby's situation, and as with everything, he tried to see all angles. Bobby wanted to fix Rogue's problem, and he wanted her to lean on him. He was acting as a young man should. Instead of running away, he wanted to face it all head on. However, Scott knew that this was not something someone's significant other could fix. He nodded in thought.

"All you can do is constantly be there for her, and remind her about that. You can't make the decision for her, and just because you don't want her to change doesn't mean she will do what you say. If she decides to get the Cure, you can enjoy the upsides to that. If she decides to keep her powers, then you have to constantly remind her that she did the right thing." Scott explained to the young man gently. He squeezed Bobby on the shoulder. "I think you're going to be okay, Bobby."

"I guess." Bobby shrugged, his blue eyes clouded in worry. "But I don't think you will be if you keep talking to me." He gave a slight nod over Scott's shoulder. "But thanks, Mr. Summers. I'll try."

"You do that." Scott smiled slightly, and then turned around.

Scott's jaw dropped, but the small smile that curled at his face easily transformed into a full-fledged, appreciative grin. He wolf-whistled as he eyed the outfit Jean had donned. She gave a small twirl, showing off her perfect legs encased in dark jeans. He nearly drooled. He grinned and walked over to her, his hands settling on her hips, feeling the silky material of her trendy red shirt underneath his fingers. Most wouldn't think he loved the color red because he saw it all of the time, but his favorite color was red and would remain so. It was the only color he could safely discern.

"Hello sexy." He greeted her. "You look great. So great that I'm tempted to just forget the whole date idea and take you upstairs. How do you feel about that?" He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her. "I love you. Let's go." He took her hand.

Jean smiled and reached up with her other hand to finger the collar of his hoodie. "I haven't seen you dressed like this in forever. You look really good, Scottie."

"Oh my God, _Scottie_?! That's the worst sexy name ever!" Came a high-pitched, though low, shriek, a teenager's terrible attempt at a frantic whisper.

Jean sighed, chuckling. "Jubilee, Kitty, Alyssa and Robi, I would advise you to scram before I turn around or your five-paragraph essay on the difference between eavesdropping and accidentally overhearing a conversation will be due when Mr. Summers and I return from our date." She announced, sensing the young minds somewhere behind her.

"What essay?" Robi Wexler asked. "Ow!" He let out when one of the three girls backhanded his chest.

"The essay you will be writing if you are not safely in the game room or in the kitchen by the time I count to ten and turn around." Jean replied, earning an amused look from Scott.

Jean counted to twenty silently, hearing the quick scrambling. She grinned mischievously. "Okay, let's go."

Scott laughed and opened the door for her as they walked out into the brisk evening air. "Where do you want to go?" Gone were the days of planned romance and snooty restaurants with waiters that had incredibly interesting accents. As a couple, Scott and Jean found things more enjoyable when there were no plans, and they were just together. They enjoyed romantic dinners and moonlit strolls, but they were no longer the rule. It was hard to make time for such extravagant romance when both sides of the couple were essentially parents, teachers, older siblings and role models 24/7.

"Hmmm… I don't know." Jean shrugged as Scott opened the garage doors. "Where's the Corvette?" She asked, horrified that her fiancé's beloved car was missing from it's usual spot.

Scott laughed. "Don't worry about it, Jean. I lent it to Warren. He has his hot date tonight, after all. I thought he might need it. He needs all the help he can get." He joked as he input the code to get into the state-of-the-art key case. "What do you want to take, Jean?"

"Depends on who's driving." Jean came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist fondly. "If you're driving, something fast." She grinned up at him when she felt him laugh.

"The Mazda it is." He decided, taking his keys and closing the key box. "I'm feeling like some really, really greasy, disgusting noodles, but the kind that are so good I could kill for them. How about you?"

Jean opened the passenger seat door and sat down. She situated herself in the ridiculously comfortable leather seat and put her seatbelt on. She couldn't help but find herself attracted to Scott even more than she usually was as he took his usual place in the driver's seat. While the Corvette was his baby, the Mazda was his favorite. Scott would always find many things fascinating, and his priorities were widespread, but he would always return to what was most important to him, what had always been loyal and true to him.

"That sounds great." She agreed. As they pulled away from the school, she let out a huge sigh of relief. "I love teaching and those kids, but it is so nice to get away and do something fun. It's so… stressful there. They need us so much that we have to be on for them all of the time, not to mention being X-Men on the side. We hardly have a moment." She closed her eyes, sinking against the seat.

"I know." Scott murmured. "They do need us, and I love what we do, but it's really hard sometimes. Going away for a couple weeks will be awesome." He commented with a smile, thinking ahead to their honeymoon to Italy. A foreign country with his beautiful bride for fifteen days without any responsibilities whatsoever? Call him crazy, but that sounded good.

"Yeah." Jean nodded, sliding her finger over the cold window. "I'm just so frustrated lately. There's so much tension in the student body because of the Cure, and people have been targeting Rogue for bullying, and she's come to talk to me in tears! I just don't know how to protect these kids anymore." She ground out quietly.

Jean squeezed her eyes shut. It was too hard to deal with all of the stress on them as teachers and protectors. The Brotherhood would be mobilizing, and one of her students was on the wrong side of the lines. John was a troubled young man, and his anger was now a weapon against them. She was going to be **married** within a month! She still needed to get Ororo's maid of honor dress altered, and needed to make sure the bouquet had been ordered. She even had to write up her students' next test. She felt tears burn behind her eyes.

"Hey." Scott got her attention and covered her hand that was lying on her thigh. Half of his attention still on the road, he looked at her through his dark sunglasses. His untreated brown bangs fell across the ruby-quartz lenses, softening the hard planes of his cheeks and jaw, and he appeared his own age, rather than decades older. For a moment, he appeared to be twenty-nine for the first time in a long time. "Everything will be okay, Jean. We'll get through this. I promise, okay?" He gave her a tiny smile. "We're too strong to let stuff pull us down."

"Yeah." She ran the thumb of her other hand underneath her bottom eyelashes, wiping away any potentially smudged mascara. She gently ran her fingers through her shortened hair. She had cut it when it had gotten too long to be manageable, let alone fashionable. She knew Scott hadn't been the happiest about the change because he loved to run his fingers through it when she wore it down, but they were both adjusting. "Yeah, you're right. You're right." She took a deep, shaky breath.

"Of course I am." He murmured. "I love you, Jean. I won't let anything terrible happen to you. I'm here to protect you."

Jean smiled adoringly up at her fiancé and leaned her head on his strong shoulder. "I love you too, Scott. I really do."

Scott smiled and relaxed under her touch, putting one arm around her shoulders and keeping his other hand on the wheel, watching the road fly by. The car hummed softly, but other than that, the rest of their drive to New York City was silent as they basked in each other's presence, and the comfort that brought.

Scott parked in the outskirts of the big city before the terrible traffic and the impossibility to find a parking spot hit. They left the car and walked several blocks to find a street booth for their noodles of choice. A half an hour later, their stomachs growling in protest, they finally found a stand. Scott dug out his wallet and paid ten dollars for their food. They found a park bench by a small version of Central Park and relaxed on the cold metal, Jean snuggling up close to Scott.

"I'm going to regret this tomorrow when I'm throwing up because it made me sick…" Jean trailed off, using her chopsticks to shovel more unceremoniously into her mouth. "But I don't really care." She added around the mouthful.

Scott laughed, gently wiping away some sauce that dribbled down from the side of her mouth with the elbow of his brown jacket. "They are very, very good." He let out a deep breath and leaned back, having finished his quickly.

Jean stood up, leaving his welcome warmth and took the bowl from his hand. She walked thirty yards to throw their garbage away in the nearest waste bin, and as she dug some random trash from her pockets, she caught a few wandering thoughts.

_Chick looks like a mutie. She couldn't be NORMAL, with that freak._

Jean looked up, meeting the man's eyes as he walked by. His cold gray eyes met her angry brown ones, and immediately, she knew that he knew that she was indeed a mutant.

"Got a problem?" He asked harshly, walking directly up to her, intending to intimidate

"I might." She answered evenly, reining in her anger. She couldn't start a fight in such a public place. She couldn't start a fight. It was directly against everything she and Scott stood for. Besides, it was rather unfair to pit a man with only his fists against a mutant woman who was both pissed and had telekinetic powers. The odds were against that poor man.

"Well, you better shut up, mutie. We don't want your kind around here, and I'll beat the absolute sh-!" He was stopped mid sentence by a hand clamping down on his shoulder.

Jean looked up to see Scott standing behind the man who was trying to intimidate her. With his sunglasses obscuring his eyes, he looked like a statue. He was not the tallest man, but he commanded a sort of power about him that clearly stated he was a leader, and he was not to be messed with.

"Want to start something, man?" The human turned around to try and anger Scott.

Too late. Scott was already angry. Jean could read it in his posture and body language. He was furious, but he controlled himself well. He smirked coldly.

Jean knew that Scott had two personas. There was Scott, who was a warm person, an incredibly good lover and fiancé, and he was simply the man she was going to marry. Then there was Cyclops, her comrade. He was absolutely cold in battle, making decisions and leading the team. When it came to protecting people, he switched to Cyclops in a heartbeat, but now not. Now, he was Scott, a man protecting his beloved.

"I will start something if you provoke me. I suggest you step away and leave my woman alone. I do not care for your petty prejudices, but if you intend to take them so far, I will not hesitant to beat you into the concrete." Scott stated calmly, a small smirk playing at his lips, almost as though he was amused at this man's attempts to frighten him.

"You're messed up, mutie freak." The man responded, shoving Scott backwards, into Jean. "Like you could take me." He spat mockingly.

Scott steadied himself, and then took Jean's hand in his. He held it gently, but Jean could read in his body that he was moments away from blasting this human into oblivion. He was a peace-loving man, and avoided a conflict at all costs, but this human had threatened her. Scott would not allow anyone to harm her if it was in his power to stop it, and in this case, he had the clear advantage, even if he kept his sunglasses on and did not use his mutation.

"I could." Scott's voice was laced with a threat. "But I won't. You got off lucky today. There are too many witnesses. But do it again, and you will taste sidewalk."

Without another word and not listening for the human's reply, Scott led Jean away from the scene and down the street. They were not far from their car, and had done almost a strange pretzel-like loop on their search for the noodles. The walk back was completely silent.

When they reached the Mazda, Jean stopped him. Scott turned around. "What is it?" He asked, his voice shaking slightly with emotion.

"Thank you." She said, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You were so brave back there. I'm so proud of you, that you didn't take his bait." She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss.

When they parted, slightly breathless, Scott smiled as he touched their foreheads. "Well, you should get threatened more often if you liked that." He chuckled as she laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I'm just glad you're okay. I think you could have taken him."

"I know." Jean agreed smugly as she opened the car door. "But you're kind of sexy when you get all riled up."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Yeah. X-Men isn't mine. Scott is, though. I swear.**

**Lawyers: Um… Psalm, I don't think so.**

**Rats.**

Rogue had never been much of an angry girl. Yes, she was Southern and could have a bit of an attitude about her when she wanted to, but she wasn't angry. She wasn't the type to hold a grudge. She wasn't clinically depressed, though with her power, she was sure no one would blame her. It did bother her that she couldn't hold her boyfriend's hand or kiss him, or that she couldn't hug Jubilee or Kitty when something great happened, or when one of them needed it. She would never be able to give a firm handshake. That bothered her, but she had never been about to kill herself over it. She loved Xavier's School, and being able to live without fear.

Well, that's how it had been in the past.

Rogue wasn't at all sure how to cope with this news: that science had found a way to remove this impediment from the last part of her life she was missing. She had everything. She was pretty, she had a lot of great friends, she had someone to call family (even though she wasn't about to tell Logan that to his face, it was true), and she had a wonderful, caring boyfriend who was behind her no matter what. She just couldn't touch anyone. She wasn't necessarily isolated emotionally, but she was isolated physically. It frustrated her, but now, that was over.

Bobby could wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her. He could hold her hand as he dragged her through the mall, excited to show her something. When Logan came back from his stints of searching for his past, she could throw her arms around him happily. She could walk around in basketball shorts and a tank top like so many other girls her age. She would be able to brush fingers with Jubilee when they passed notes in class, behind Mr. Summers' back. She could push someone into the pond when they were being goofy. She could play touch football with the boys if she wanted to!

But Rogue knew if she would never have any of that if she were able to. If she got the Cure, no one would come near her again. She knew that she would be emotionally isolated from everyone if she were Cured, whereas, before, she had only been physically isolated. Rogue knew that, but she didn't want to believe it. She wanted to believe that when she could touch, everyone would rush to hug (or, in Bobby's case) and kiss her. She wanted to believe that everything would be okay.

Clinging to that pathetic belief, Rogue packed a small overnight bag in the confines of her dorm room. Kitty and Jubilee were probably doing each other's makeup in a bathroom or tracking down Alyssa and Emily to initiate the next round of the Girls vs. Boys prank war. Bobby and John had started it when John had conceived the idea of Bobby freezing the girls' load of laundry. It had escalated into a full-out war. Now, each side attempted to come up with a non-injuring and non-incriminating way of humiliating or embarrassing the other side, without letting the enemy know what each side was up to.

Rogue sighed as she looked down at the t-shirt and Bermuda shorts outfit she had stolen from Kitty. She walked over to her bed and reached underneath, grabbing a pair of shoes. It was her only pair of flip-flops. She tossed the black shoes in. She knew it would be cold and she would be shivering as she rode the bus back to the school. She didn't care. She needed to wear those clothes because she would be Cured.

Rogue sat down on her bed and let her mind wander as she laid back. She remembered the small lecture Mr. Summers had given her a little over a week ago. She knew he was right. She had no idea what the Cure would do to her, or what the process would be like. If it involved several huge needles jabbing in her skin, she doubted her ability to go through with it, though touching was such a tempting prospect. She was deadly afraid of needles. She turned over. She had avoided running into Mr. Worthington because if she saw him, she would… she didn't know what she would think or feel, but whatever it was, she didn't want to experience it.

She sat up, letting out a frustrated sigh. She had to. Mr. Summers' words would annoy her until her dying day if she didn't follow them. He was admirably annoying like that. Rogue, as she left her room, wondered how he could be so dedicated. He was the leader of the X-Men, a teacher of two subjects, mathematics and Auto Engineering, and he was getting married in two weeks. He had a chance to take away one stress, one thing that was constantly in his way, and he turned his back from it, choosing his priorities over his personal wants. She cursed the guilt that thought brought her.

Rogue walked down the grand staircase, just as the door opened and a couple burst in, laughing loudly about something. She froze, recognizing both people instantly. It was Justine, one of the coolest chefs ever, and Mr. Worthington. She had been hearing insane gossip, spread by Alyssa, talking about how the two were deeply in love-lust (infatuation with serious physical attraction) and were going on dates every two days. Mr. Worthington was constantly away, due to his work, and Justine's sister had just had a baby, but they were together as much as they could.

Of course, it was just Rogue's luck that they appeared when she needed to talk to them.

"Hello Rogue." Justine said, breaking through her reverie. "How are you doing?"

Rogue stiffened slightly at the innocent question. "I'm fine. How are you two?"

"Great." Mr. Worthington answered promptly, grinning brightly, an arm around his date.

"I'm good." Justine turned to Mr. Worthington. "I'll see you later, Warren. Are you sure you have to go?" She asked, taking gently hold of his coat's collar, loath to leave him and return to the kitchen to prepare for dinner. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too." Mr. Worthington replied quietly, kissing her. "And yes, unfortunately. My father likes running me ragged." He gave her a gentle smile and kissed her once more. "I'll see you later."

"Bye." Justine's Russian accent curled at her words as she walked away, backwards, smiling at Mr. Worthington.

"Bye." He returned, a smile lingering on his features.

Rogue felt strange for intruding on such a personal moment, but persevered through her feelings. She took a deep breath as she stepped down onto the hardwood floors. "Mr. Worthington, I was wondering if I could talk to you."

Mr. Worthington looked down at his watch, and then nodded. "Sure, Rogue. What do you need?" He asked, slipping his hands into his pockets casually. His features darkened for a moment as if realizing her intent, but his calm, happy façade slipped back over his face.

Rogue took another deep breath for courage and then said, "I want to get the Cure, but I want to know more about it. Do you have any information?" She swallowed nervously, and looked down.

Warren, as he became in Rogue's mind the moment he sighed mournfully and nodded, gestured to the next room, where there was a small couch and several armchairs. "Come with me."

Rogue settled onto the couch and Warren took an armchair. He leaned back and met her gaze. "The Cure is a liquid substance that's injected into your bloodstream. It takes some time, from ten to thirty minutes, to completely bond with your DNA, and then this substance covers your mutation. It's not so much a Cure as it is a suppressant." He explained as Rogue's eyes widened. "I work closely with my father, so this is not something you would find on the Internet. People assume it kills your mutation, but that's impossible. To do so, you would need to kill only one part of your entire DNA makeup, throughout your entire body."

"Oh." Rogue breathed, running her fingers through her hair. "So, there's a possibility my powers might come back?"

Warren shrugged, his brown eyes wandering over the room. "I don't know. I didn't spend too much time in the laboratories. My part in the process was networking and advertisement. I spent more time at parties and social functions in stuffy tuxedos than in the labs, so I don't know most of the specifics, but yes, I think there is a possibility. It seems likely that your body would naturally kill off anything that was impeding its natural processes." He sighed. "You really want to get it, don't you?"

Rogue nodded, exhaling in frustration. "Yes! Of course I do. I can't touch anyone at all. I have to wear sweatshirts and jeans and scarves and gloves, even in the summertime or no one will come near me. I have a boyfriend, and I can't even hold his hand. I can't comfort my friends or give someone a high five or play sports or anything. I can't do anything like a teenager." She rambled, tears springing into her eyes, blurring her vision. "My arms and hands have been pale for almost two years now… I'm so not normal. I can't live a normal life." She covered her face, taking deep breaths, attempting to calm herself.

"I don't know what to tell you, Rogue. I'm… actually getting it, too." Warren admitted quietly, not meeting her startled gaze.

"You?" Rogue asked incredulously. "But your wings…"

"Yes." He smiled cynically. "My wings. I love them."

"Why won't you keep them? You can **fly**!" She gesticulated to show her disbelief. "Why would you get them taken away?"

Warren sighed. "It comes down to a question of why would anyone change the way they were born? It's kind of like plastic surgery when you weren't in a freak car accident or whatever. Is it right? Is the severity of a difference a reason to do something immoral, if it is wrong? I don't know. I just can't keep my wings for the same reason you can't not touch." He laughed humorlessly. "For the majority of the year, the time I'm not at the mansion, I keep my wings bound and covered at all times. No one's to know that I can fly."

Rogue sat there silently for a long time, simply breathing in and out and thinking. She wanted the Cure. No, that wasn't necessarily true. She wanted to be able to touch. But did she want the Cure? Did she want to deal with the consequences the actions she chose would bring? She knew how fierce her friends felt about the Cure. They hated it and everything it represented. Though they wouldn't hate her, they wouldn't be pleased with her and would never treat her the same again because she wouldn't be the same. She was pretty sure Ms. Munroe would alienate her, even if she would act like she wasn't. The only one who wouldn't treat her differently would be Mr. Summers. Even if he didn't get the Cure himself, they were remarkably the same. He would understand and still accept her.

"I don't know what to do." She murmured.

"Then just don't do anything right now. Pros and cons, and all." He remarked.

"What?" She asked.

"To make such a huge decision, or even to get lunch, you have to go through the pros and cons of everything. Sometimes, you do it instinctually. You know eating a salad won't fill you up, but a cheeseburger is too fattening, so you pick a sandwich. In this case, the pros of getting the Cure would be touch. The cons would be the reactions of everyone you know. Some would still accept you but some would never speak to you again." Warren seemed burdened by the words he spoke.

"Yeah." Rogue sighed, looking away. He was right, and she knew it. She hated him for being right.

"ROGUE!" Jubilee shrieked, running in. "Come on, you have to help us!"

"What did you do now?" Rogue asked expectantly, glad for the change of subject. She watched Warren out of the corner of her eye as he stood up and left, giving her a small smile in farewell.

"Well, we might have the greatest prank ever if you'll help us!" Jubilee whined. She saw Warren's retreating back. "Why were you talking to the hottest thing to ever grace these halls?"

"That's what you said about Robi when he came." Rogue avoided the question skillfully, but for once, Jubilee didn't take the hot guy bait.

"You know what I meant." Jubilee put a hand on her hip and waited.

"We were just talking about his work. What he does is really interesting." Rogue lied, relief flooding through her as the talk of labor and work bored Jubilee.

"Okay, whatever, Let's go, okay?"

**XXX**

Scott slid underneath his Corvette, his toolbox near at hand and a ratty old towel separating his sweatshirt and warm body from the frigid concrete garage floor. The portable stereo Jean had bought him for his last birthday was playing at the nearest outlet, currently blasting 'Overkill' by Colin Hay. He had a penchant for eighties' music, and sometimes loved the modern albums eighties' artists put out, but usually only in the case of Colin Hay and Bon Jovi. He nodded his head to the mellow beat.

"Especially at night, I worry over situations. I know it'll be alright; perhaps its just imagination. Day after day, it reappears. Night after night, my heartbeat shows the fear. Ghosts appear and fade away." Scott sang out. He wasn't much of a singer, and absolutely refused to do any sort of karaoke. His singing time was strictly in the shower, while he was driving alone, or in the garage. Anyone who knew he even could sing was one who stumbled upon him in the garage, and that was unusual. The best kept secret of the mansion… besides the whole mutant thing. "Come back another day."

"I can't get to sleep. I think about the implications of diving in too deep, and possibly the complications. Especially at night, I worry over situations that I know will be all right. Its just overkill! Day- Hey!" Scott exclaimed as his music was rudely paused. He rolled out from under his jacked up Corvette, ready to turn on whoever had stopped him from his Colin Hay singing session. His cheeks were lightly flushed. It might have just been the lack of heat in the garage, or the embarrassment at being caught singing.

He stood up, wiping his greasy hands on his jeans and opened his mouth to sternly tell whomever it was to leave when he realized the intruder was Jean. He flushed. "Hi Jean." He greeted and walked over to her. He pecked her cheek fondly. "What are you doing out here?"

"I think you should stop whatever man fight thing you have going on with Logan. It's absolutely annoying me, and it's causing turmoil in the student body. Most of the students are afraid of him because you find it so hard to be _**civil**_!" She exhaled in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

Scott put his hands on his hips, irritated that Jean would interrupt him in his alone time in the garage, the only time he ever took for no other reason than to be by himself, with such a trivial concern. No one was physically being hurt by his feud with Logan, and the two did not speak in public, so there was hardly ever a verbal battle. Any fear any student had of Logan was probably well founded in the fact that he was actually very scary. Not that Scott was scared of him or anything.

"Jean, I'm doing nothing to promote such feelings. If anyone asks me about Logan, I report the facts. He's a good fighter, he's done many things for the mansion and the inhabitants, and he sometimes wakes up from frightening nightmares. I say nothing derogatory; you know me better than that." He answered tersely.

"Of course you don't! It's all in the way you say it. You say those words as if they were poison. You hate him." Jean pointed out, not at all happy with his tone with her.

"I don't hate him!" Scott exclaimed, offended. He didn't like Logan, but hate? Hate would imply that he wished to kill the Wolverine. No, he didn't wish death on Logan. Scott was jealous of him, but he never felt particularly murderous.

"Yes, you do! You just wish you could blast him into oblivion!" Jean snapped angrily.

"I don't hate him, Jean!" He reiterated. "I've never liked him. I think he's dangerous and volatile. I hated the way he looked at you. I hated the way he would talk to you when you already had an engagement ring on your finger. I hated the fact I never did that in public, or never enough, and he had the shameless… audacity to do so!" He gesticulated, his voice raising a few decibels in irritation. "But I've never hated him." He lowered his voice, slightly worn out from his emotions.

"I can understand that, honey." Jean said softly, her anger diffused by Scott's explosion of emotion. "I can. I just don't know why you can't forgive him. He hasn't done anything for a couple of weeks. He's coming to the wedding whether you like it or not, but I wish there would be no drama. I just want it to be our happy day where the focus is entirely on us, and not on whether or not Mr. Summers will slaughter the Wolverine or not." Jean joked slightly, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry for yelling, but it's really hard because I'm so stressed out anyway, and every time I even _think_ about the two of you so angry at each other…" She shuddered and leaned into his embrace as he hugged her in return.

"I'm sorry too." He murmured. "It's so hard for me to forgive him because I thought I was so close to losing you… to him, of all people! There was no room for rational thought, because I know you would never leave me for him. All I could think about was how he would steal you from me, and he would make you happier than I could. I was jealous. Very, very jealous."

Jean smiled into his chest. "It's kind of cute that you care that much to obsess about it. It's so strange that you would ever think that, though." She inhaled deeply, enjoying the light cologne he wore sparingly. "Will you at least try?" She looked up into his glasses. "For me?"

Scott sighed. "Okay." He gave in, giving her a weary smile. He didn't want to, but with those beautiful eyes pleading him, there was no way he could even think of saying no.

"The whole vulnerable pleading thing worked, huh?" Jean asked with a playful smile.

"I never had a chance, Jean." He assured her with a chuckle. "But why did you have to stop my music? You know that's my favorite song." He nudged her gently.

"Because there are only two ways to make you stop working on that car, and stopping your stereo is one of them." Her eyes glinted mischievously.

Scott laughed, giving her a flirtatious smirk of his own. "And what could the other way be?"

Jean giggled, burying her face into his chest, close to obsessive about his smell. Whenever he was near, she could smell his cologne and it was so attractive, and she would be distracted. She just wanted to cuddle up with him and curl into his arms. She was certain he did that purposely. "I don't know what the other way is." She answered innocently.

Scott grinned and pulled the dirty rag from his back belt loop. "The Corvette can wait. Could you help me with some papers? I'm exhausted and I think I might fall asleep over them. Why do I insist on giving my kids tests every two weeks?" He asked, tempted to fall asleep before he even tried to start grading them.

"Because you're evil." Jean replied with the cute laugh Scott adored so much.

"Oh, that's right." He agreed as they walked inside, feeling extremely lucky that he and Jean never carried their arguments on long. They were a mature couple, over petty fights that became a contest of who had been wronged the most. They forgave each other easily and worked out their problems by getting to the heart of the matter. Scott was so lucky or he would have had many nights on the game room couch. He almost winced at the thought. Like he would survive a night without Jean near.

**XXX**

The next day, Jean walked to the Professor's office for their telepathy session. She was picking up everything. She knew for a fact that Bobby was planning on buying Rogue the movie she had fallen in love with when they had seen it in the theaters, that Kitty had a small crush on Warren because he was just too cute for words, even though she had a certain fondness for Piotr, and that Warren was developing deep feelings for Justine, but she didn't need to be a telepath for that. Though some of the information she was picking up was absolutely harmless, it was irritating. She had a pounding headache from the moment she woke up to whenever she was able to get away from the majority of the student body. She couldn't stand waking up and finding the room in disarray. She wasn't even having nightmares anymore. Her mind simply moved around when she slept.

She knocked on the door and then walked in. "Good morning, Professor." She greeted with a smile.

"Good morning, Jean." He returned. "Shall we get started?"

Jean nodded and sat down on the couch. "Sure. But can I ask you a question, first?"

"Of course." Charles wheeled himself over to her. "What's bothering you?"

"Why did you block my powers?" She asked, slightly embarrassed by her wondering. She didn't understand why he would take fate into his own hands. The Charles Xavier she knew respected humanity and would never manipulate another's mind, unless a life was at stake.

Charles sighed, letting his gaze fall to the floor. "When I met you, you were tortured by the voices in your head. You were hearing everything. Your powers were so great that you could lift cars without much of an effort. I was afraid the power would influence you negatively, and you would destroy minds and hurt people." He explained, and great guilt weighed heavily on his features. "I am sorry, Jean. I only did what I thought was right, and it ended up as a great error in judgment."

"I understand." Jean replied, with a nod. "I don't know whether I would have been mature enough to handle this amount of power that's being returned to me. I've been struggling so much with it; I don't know how to contain it, to stop my mind from wandering when I'm sleeping or not paying attention. I've been having these headaches." She rubbed her temples. She really didn't want to hear the thoughts one of the teenage boys was having about Jubilee. Yes, the Asian girl was very pretty, but that didn't mean he had to think so loudly about her.

The Professor nodded. "Thank you." He furrowed his brow slightly at her troubles. "Then we shall definitely have to work on that. Mental stretches may not be enough… I think it's very fortunate you and Scott have your wedding and honeymoon in only two weeks. Being away from so much mental noise will definitely be good for you." He paused, thinking. "Perhaps we could set up a mental barrier around your room and office. No thoughts would be able to penetrate, and your mind could rest."

Jean sighed in relief. "That would be perfect." She smiled tiredly. "Are you going to take away the rest of the barriers in my mind today?" She asked worriedly.

"No, not if you're having so much trouble right now. You need time to adjust to your new powers. Have you been in the Danger Room much? I'm sure Scott could design a few exercises just to test your mental abilities."

Jean nodded. "He's working on several exercises, a few for me, and then several for the entire team, favoring telepaths." She relaxed into the couch, closing her eyes. "Can we start?"

"Of course." Charles closed his eyes as well. "Break into my mind."

"What?" Jean asked, sitting up, her eyes wide. "But…"

"You're not going to hurt me, Jean." He assured her, amusement coloring his voice. "Just see if you can break through my defenses. You are very powerful, but Magneto has mental shields as well. I made sure he had them. His helmet can be removed, but from there, it is difficult to even touch the outward thoughts of his mind. Just try." He closed his eyes and prepared his defenses.

Jean sighed and closed her eyes again. She gathered her thoughts and did her best to create a thick wall from her mind and every other mind, except Charles'. She reached out tentatively and brushed the edges of his steeled mind. She withdrew slightly, and then went in. She had learned that it was dangerous for both minds involved for a telepath to simply shatter defenses. The mental shrapnel could be deadly. She reached out with invisible fingers, searching and feeling for a hole in the Professor's defenses.

The Professor's defenses were strong, but they were not perfect. Near flawless walls covered most of the plane of his mind. The small cracks and crannies between the walls were protected by a much weaker defense, but those parts of his mind were not that important. Jean made a gentle mental incision into one of those weak protections and worked her way in, taking her time and disguising her presence.

She felt as though she was in a small closet. Touching her surroundings, she found she was in the compartment of Xavier's mind where he kept records of his favorite foods. Wondering how he could ever secretly love Brussels sprouts and peanut butter together, she felt for an escape.

A mind is not strictly like a house with rooms and doors and hallways. Some parts of it are similar to a house, but the rest of it was created in the fashion of a river with tributaries going off, and small rivers pouring in. A person's thoughts flitter hither and thither, and a telepath could follow that river to a compartment where a body's actions were dictated, or to where the heartbeat was controlled. Jean took the route from favorite food to favorite things to do, and attempted to get on the 'highway' to where she knew she could control part of Charles' body, but was promptly pushed out of his mind by his reflexive defenses when she got too hasty and tried to push through.

Jean opened her eyes and found herself completely exhausted. "How did I do?" She asked.

"Very well." The Professor praised. "I could barely detect that anything was going on until you tried to take over my mind." He gave her an amused look. "You are learning control, and I am very pleased. I think your only weakness is that you don't protect your own mind enough. In an inexperienced mind, if their natural defenses were to kick in, you might be hurt."

"I know." Jean ran her hand through her hair. "I'm going to find Scott and see if the Danger Room exercises are ready yet. Thank you." She smiled.

"Good-bye, Jean."

Jean left the office and walked down the stairs, using the railing to steady herself, as her legs felt very weak. She found Scott in the game room, staring at the TV.

"What's wrong, Scott?" She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"The Cure came out today." He muttered. "And I can't find Warren."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

Warren looked at the Rolex watch on his wrist for the twentieth time in the past fifteen minutes. He had made the decision to leave the mansion early the morning after Rogue had asked him about the Cure. In all honesty, he didn't know why he thought he should get the Cure when he thought she shouldn't. He just needed his father's love, and this was the only way he could think of hoping to attain it. He understood it was foolish, and he might not get what he wanted, but it was his only hope. He needed the Cure.

He sighed as he stood up, dressed in one of his most casual outfits: light blue jeans and a dark blue button down shirt. During the workweek, it was an uncommon occurrence to see Warren Worthington in something other than a suit, but he wasn't going to work today. He was going to become a normal human again. The thought did not leave a wonderful taste in the back of his mouth, but it was something he had to do. He just needed to.

Warren picked up his cell phone and turned it off, leaving it on his bed, and tossed his palm pilot down as well. Other than the keys to his BMW and his wallet, he carried nothing on him. He went into the bathroom and stared at his reflection. He looked paler than usual and had dark circles underneath his eyes. He hadn't slept a wink. He had tossed and turned for hours before getting up and pacing. He knew he had to get the Cure. He knew it was something that was expected of him. He couldn't stop thinking, however, about everything Scott had said. He trusted his best friend with everything, and trusted that Scott would tell him the truth, no matter how painful it was.

This time, Warren couldn't believe him. Was he choosing his father over his friends? Yes, he was. It didn't make sense; that was true. His father had only ever criticized him for his decisions. His father had only ever breathed down his neck and made him worry and stress out. But the small boy inside of him, the one that had tried to cut off his own wings as a child, desperately needed his father's approval, and was so deprived of it that he was willing to go to whatever lengths to earn it.

Warren opened the door and entered the hallway. Time seemed to speed up, and suddenly, he was in front of the front door. He turned the knob.

"Warren?"

His heart stopped as he turned around to see Justine in the hallway. "Hey." He greeted, his voice dull and emotionless.

"Where are you going?" Justine asked, anger manifesting on her gentle features when she realized the answer to her own question. She wasn't a mutant, and could understand how hard it would be to be one. Secretly, she found Warren's wings incredibly romantic and sexy. She honestly liked him for who he was. Yes, it was wonderful that he was handsome, and that he had a lot of money and drove a fancy car and wore fancy clothes. That added to his character, but it was him who she liked. She didn't want him to change.

"Out." He answered coldly. His tone and features warmed with guilt and shame at Justine's slight flinch. "I'm sorry. I just need to be alone, and…"

Justine pondered his excuse and his remorse. She didn't doubt that he felt sorry for his mean tone. Warren was a gentle person, and was always quick with an almost imperceptible smile that warmed her all the way down to her toes. He was always gracious and caring, and he made sure that she knew she was the center of his world when they were together. He made sure she knew that he was constantly thinking of her, by the short voicemail messages he left on her phone, "I miss you! Call me when you get a moment" and "Hey Justine, our date was awesome last night. You are amazing. I'll see you tonight." He was a wonderful man, and a great date. She didn't want him to change at all. He was absolutely perfect the way he was.

"Really?" She wondered, looking up into his face as she walked towards him. "Do you really just need to be alone? Look, Warren, I…" She sighed. She wasn't sure what to say to him to change his mind or to soothe him. "I think I know why you're leaving, but I'd rather hear it from you, you know?"

He sighed, leaning down to hug her. "I… I'm going to get the Cure today."

"Why?" She mumbled into his chest. "I love your wings."

He exhaled in amusement. "Yeah. I do too." He hesitated. He found it hard to talk to Scott, his best friend, about this. Should he really tell her, this girl who wasn't even officially his girlfriend yet? He took a deep breath. "My dad didn't love me anymore after I became a mutant… I…" His voice shook. He had never told anyone about… the incident. "I tried to cut my own wings off, thinking he'd finally like me again. He didn't, and they grew back anyway."

Justine inhaled sharply, pulling away from their embrace to look up into his face. "You actually…?" Tears welled up in her eyes as she imagined a young Warren doing such a thing, just because his father was too much of a jerk to get over his fear. "Oh my God, Warren, I'm so sorry." She gently wrapped her arms around his waist.

Warren smiled down at her and rested his chin on the top of her head. "Thanks." His smile fell away and he sighed. "I just have to do this for him. So he'll think I'm… I don't know. So he'll finally respect me. I know all of my friends wouldn't change their opinions about me because I'll be human. What about you, Justine?" He asked her.

"I like you, Warren, and that won't change, no matter what race you are." Justine stated firmly. "So get used to it." She smiled grimly. "If you feel this is something you have to do, okay. I just don't think you should. I kind of like your wings." She gave him another gentle squeeze affectionately.

"Yeah." He murmured.

"Do you want me to drive you?" She asked, letting go of his waist to stand at a respectable distance. Her inner worry was reflected in her dark brown eyes, but she attempted to stay calm. "I mean, it's no big deal, and we haven't started getting things ready…"

"No, you don't have to." He gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine. I'll see you the moment I get back, okay?" He put his hands on the sides of her face and leaned down to kiss her.

"Okay." She accepted his kiss. "I'll see you later."

"Bye."

From the moment Warren closed the front door behind him to the second he spotted the already growing crowds in front of the free clinic that was offering the Cure, only fifteen minutes had passed, and that was far too soon for his tastes. He parked his car several blocks away and walked to the clinic, trying to stay casual and calm. The protestors yelled and screamed at him as he accepted the help of several security guards that recognized him, but he ignored them. They had no idea. They saw the issue in black and white, in mutation or humanity. It wasn't so easy. Nothing was ever black and white. There was emotion and family and pain and broken hearts. It wasn't just right and wrong.

"Ah, Warren, good to see you." Warren Worthington, Sr., smiled broadly and shook his son's hand. "You don't look so well, did you get enough sleep?"

Warren shrugged, slightly bewildered as his shock wore off and he actually heard the screaming and yelling outside. He looked over his shoulder and saw the angry faces through the tinted glass of the building. "Not as much as I hoped."

"You were excited?" His father asked expectantly.

Warren turned back and looked his father in the eye, and lied to his face. "Yeah."

"Good man." Worthington, Sr., smiled proudly. "Come on. Everything's all ready. Let's get started."

Warren numbly followed his father and a female scientist he recognized, and suddenly, he felt like a scared boy again. He wasn't the up and coming businessman he felt like most days. He wasn't even a man. He was just scared, and he was mindlessly trusting his father to get him through.

Warren focused on taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. He knew he should be listening, as the female scientist was explaining the process, but he already knew what would happen. His father had proudly shown it off to him several times. He found cynical amusement in that. His own father was prouder of a machine, of a liquid, than he was of his own son. That was a great self-esteem booster.

"Okay, I think they're ready for you, Mr. Worthington." Warren looked up, forced from his bitter thoughts.

"Oh. Okay." He looked down and unbuttoned his shirt, handing it to a nearby nurse who went to fold it and place it in Recovery. With the help of his father, he took off his wings' restraint. He stretched his wings out experimentally. He was going to miss his wings, and his flying time.

Warren thought back to the few times he had been out in the field with the X-Men for rescue missions. He had seen the worst side of human life; how people could treat kids they hated and saw as sub-human. The very thought made his stomach turn. He had taken broken children back to Xavier's School and heard them cry in their sleep as he walked through the hallways. He had seen the good his wings and strength could do. He had been someone the kids looked up to, along with Scott, Jean and Ororo.

Secretly, he had been jealous of them. They were doing such important work that would really matter at the end of the day. They gave children who had nowhere to go a true home, full of love and attention. They offered kids an education and a chance at life that was stolen away from them simply because they were created differently. Warren had been pressured into working for his father, and he had gone down the path that was expected of him because he was so scared. Scott, on the other hand, Warren's best friend and one of his greatest heroes, had done what he had known was right because it was the right thing to do. Not because it would get him noticed, because it wouldn't, and not because Xavier wanted him to. Scott was living his life. Warren wasn't.

Warren's heart rate was through the roof as he walked towards the restraints. He stared at them for a split second, swallowing the lump in his throat. Faced with the reality of what he was going to go through with… he wasn't sure he wanted to. One of the doctors moved towards him and clamped down his left arm restraint.

"Dad? Can't we talk about this?" He asked wildly, his voice much higher than normal. Nothing about this situation was normal. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. He couldn't let his father dictate his life. He couldn't betray everything he had once stood for. He couldn't betray Scott, or Justine, or Jean, or Xavier.

"Now, Warren, we've talked about this." His father said soothingly. "It'll be over in a moment."

Warren stared at the needle a doctor was preparing. It was filled with a nasty neon green liquid, and it made his heart stop. That stuff would make his wings disappear. He would never be able to fly again. The only thing that had ever brought him peace… it would be gone. No. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't let his father control his life anymore. He was an adult. He would make his own decisions, and he would do what he wanted to. He had had it easy his entire life. Maybe it was time to take the hard way.

"No!" He cried, pulling at his restraints. He took a deep breath and shoved himself away, breaking the metal easily. He rubbed the sore spots on his biceps, flexing his wings, as he raced towards the window. It was as though animal instinct had taken over, or perhaps it was the passion that came over him when it came to his mutation, but he threw himself out of the window and spread his wings.

His white wings caught him before he fell more than five feet and he waved them powerfully, pausing for dramatic effect as he posed with his wings for the entire world to see. He couldn't help the grin that spread over his features. He thought about landing and finding his car, but he wanted to fly all of the way back to Xavier's. He turned slightly to head back to the school when he caught a glimpse of his father's face. It stung his heart, but as he flew away, he cut all ties with his father. He was giving up his inheritance, his personal fortune, and one of the highest-paying jobs on the planet. That hurt too, because he loved his work, but the money… he didn't need it, and none of the people he truly cared about needed it. He would be okay.

As he left New York City, flying in the sky, hundreds of feet above the rest of the world, calm spread through his limbs and heart. Yes. This was the right thing to do.

**XXX**

Rogue sat up, squinting through the dark to make sure Jubilee and Kitty were really asleep. Jubilee had a bad habit of texting silently throughout the entire night with some cute boy or group of fashionable and awesome girls she'd met that day of the mall. The Southern girl waited for several moments, and by the soft snores, her roommates were asleep. She let out a sigh of relief and pulled the blankets from her body.

She was dressed in her regular jeans and sweatshirt combination, and she slipped her feet into her sneakers. She eased herself onto her hands and knees to take her hidden bag out from underneath her bed. She made sure she had put her bus money into the zippered pocket, and then opened the door quietly. She closed it, and then snuck down the halls, wincing each time the floors creaked.

"Where are you going?" Logan's voice made her spin around, her heart thudding wildly in her chest.

"… Out." She answered meekly, but she knew Logan knew exactly where she was going.

"Well, just make sure you're doing it for the right reasons." He told her after a long, thoughtful pause.

"Aren't you going to order me back to bed and then tell on me tomorrow?" She asked, confused as to why he wasn't angrier or more forceful.

"Kid, I'm not your father. I'm your friend." Logan stated, his brown eyes softening as he looked at her. "Do you need a ride?"

For some reason, Logan's statement didn't make her disappointed that he didn't see her that way. It brought her comfort that he saw her as an adult, capable of enough emotional maturity to make such a big decision on her own. It made her trust in herself more than she had. She shook her head. "No. I want to do this alone." She gave him a small smile. "I'll see you later."

"See you, Rogue."

"… Marie." She corrected him softly.

"Marie."

Rogue nodded, and then turned around, aware of his gaze on her back. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had sucked in when she finally made it down the main staircase. She turned around and looked at the school in the dark. She had always fallen asleep and stayed that way. She wasn't plagued by insomnia or weird urges for ice cream in the middle of the night. She hadn't ever seen the school at night. She took a deep breath and let it out. She had a weird feeling that it would never be the same when she came back. She didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

Rogue shivered as she walked off of the property, towards the closest bus stop. She stood there, her arms crossed over her chest for ten minutes, when the bus came. She paid her fare and found a seat. She looked around, and found there were only two other passengers. One was a middle-aged black woman, and the other was a young man with shocking green hair. She met his eyes, and they were orange, and filled with despair. She looked away quickly, sick to her stomach. Why were they cursed with such… powers?

She took her cell phone out of her bag, just to make sure it was off. She knew the moment the alarm clock woke Jubilee and Kitty up and they realized she was gone, they would be calling her like crazy. She was notorious for sleeping late, and took at least ten minutes to get up. She would never get up early if her life depended on it.

She took a deep breath to calm herself and closed her eyes, letting the scenery pass by. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her head against the cold window. Instead of finding calm with the darkness of her eyelids, she found only more agitation. She opened her eyes and stared into the distance, not focusing on any one particular thing. Warren and Mr. Summers' words kept flashing through her head. Were they right? They couldn't be. How would they know what never being able to touch someone was like? She would never have a normal life, by mutant or human standards. If she didn't have her mutation, everything would be easier. She could finally be with Bobby like she knew he wanted, despite all he had said to try and comfort her. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. He was the best boyfriend ever, and she couldn't give him anything, not a loving kiss when he needed someone to care or a hug in the summertime. She was always so dangerous to be around, and not in a sexy, mysterious way either.

Rogue could hear the protestors before she could see them. She checked her watch. They were already gathered and adamant at six-thirty AM. She sighed as the bus stopped and she and the other mutant got off. They joined the growing line.

"So, what's your mutation?" The mutant that had shared her bus ride asked.

Rogue looked up at him, startled slightly by his question. "When I touch people, it's like I absorb part of them. Their personality traits, memories… if they're a mutant, their powers, for a short time." She explained quietly. "If I hold on for too long, it could kill them." Her voice dropped even lower as she looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough." He shrugged. "I'm Josh. Josh Tritt." He gave her a grim smile.

"Rogue… or, well, I guess it'll be Marie again." She shrugged, returning his smile.

"Nice to meet you." He offered his hand and she shook it with her gloved one.

"So, what can you do?" Rogue asked.

"Well, my hair and eyes, obviously." Josh gestured to them. "And I can move some things with my mind, but nothing too big." He shrugged. "I wouldn't get rid of the moving things, but my hair and eyes… contacts won't mask the orange, and I can only buy so much dye without starving." He sighed. "But it's either one or the other, and I'm so sick of getting beat up when I walk home from work, and of doctors not treating me because I'm apparently not human!" He spat angrily.

Rogue flinched slightly. "That must be… rough."

"Yeah." Josh took a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm just really glad this is going to be over."

"… Me… too." She answered tentatively.

The conversation ended there, and they didn't talk for a long while. Rogue was glad she had packed one of Jubilee's protein bars in case she got hungry, because the line was taking forever to move. She sighed and looked around. For a while, she stared at the protestors who just wouldn't give up. They yelled, screamed, and waved their picket signs. She could understand their sentiment, because most of her friends were like that, but it was as though they were wrong for wanting to be accepted, for wanting to live happy lives. She sighed and looked away. As she did so, averting her eyes to the ground, she caught a glimpse of a familiar face.

She quickly looked back and searched the crowd. "Oh my God." She whispered.

Josh looked down at her. "What is it?" He asked, following her line of sight, but seeing nothing of interest.

"Nothing." She replied. She didn't want to admit that she was a terrible person. She knew that Bobby was happy with her. She knew he liked her, and she definitely liked him as well. She didn't want to admit that she was defying everything she had once stood for, simply so she could hug someone. She didn't want to admit her boyfriend had come looking for her, had come to save her, but that she didn't want to be saved. She definitely didn't want to admit an ex-friend was, for some reason, there as well.

When Rogue looked back, she couldn't find Bobby's face. She breathed in relief. Good. Maybe he hadn't seen her. Maybe he thought she had just gone to the mall, or had done an early Danger Room session. Something other than this.

A few more minutes passed, and she was finally at the front of the line. She stared at the double glass doors as if they were coated in the bubonic plague. She was afraid of what laid within, of how her life would be different. Being a healthy person, she was wary of change, but she had thought this would bring relief. Now that she was staring it right in the face, she was scared, and she didn't want it anymore. She took a step back.

"Marie, aren't you ready for this?" Josh asked her, an amused smile on his face. "Come on. Everything's going to be fine."

Rogue shook her head. "No, it's not. Nothing's going to change for the better if I go through with this. None of my friends will look at me the same. I'm lucky." She looked up at him. "I have friends that love me. I have an amazing boyfriend who actually came looking for me, trying to change my mind, trying to make me see I would make the biggest mistake of my life today." She ranted, feeling out of character. She was a girl of few words, but maybe she needed to say this.

"You don't get it, Josh. I haven't really touched anyone in almost three years, but I would rather have this than deny what I am. I'm a mutant, and it sucks, and it's really hard most days, but it's worth it because there's nothing wrong with me." She spat at him. "I'll see you around sometime."

With that strong statement, Rogue ducked underneath the wooden separators that kept the line from the police who barred the general public from attacking the mutants waiting to get the Cure. She pushed her way through the line of black-uniformed officers and walked down the street. Her walk soon turned into a run as tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She still wanted to touch, but she didn't want to be a human. Her bag bounced wildly on her back, but she ignored it.

A few blocks away, she stopped, bending over, her hands on her knees, as she sucked breath in. She ignored the people who were staring at her and wiped the tears from her eyes, trying her best not to break down and sob. She fumbled in her bag for her cell phone and turned it on. She didn't listen to the several voicemail messages or read the ten text messages. She dialed a familiar number.

"Yeah?" A gruff voice answered.

"Logan, will you come and pick me up?" Rogue asked tearfully, tears sliding down her face unbidden.

"Sure, kid. Where are you?"

Rogue looked up at the road signs. "Umm… thirty-sixth and Denver."

"I'll be there in ten minutes, Marie." He assured her.

"It's still Rogue, actually." She admitted softly.

"Okay, kid. Just stay there. I'll see you."

"Bye." She closed her phone and put it into her pocket. She took a deep breath and wiped her tears away.

"Hey there, Rogue." A familiar voice sneered.

Rogue turned around to behold John Allerdyce. His hair was a little longer, and his face seemed grubbier, but it was still him. She didn't listen to the urge that told her to throw her arms around him in excitement to see him. She met his gaze solidly. "Pyro." She greeted evenly. "Why are you here? Tired of shooting fire everywhere?"

"Like hell I am." He scoffed. "What about you? Iceboy tired of not being able to cop a feel?" He smirked at her, still flicking his lighter open and closed annoyingly.

"No." Rogue answered, rolling her eyes. "What do you want, Pyro?" She asked. She knew she should be afraid, because he was her enemy, but his was still the face of someone she recognized as a friend. She could still stand up to him and annoy him.

He hesitated, and shrugged. "Just wanted to see if the infamous, untouchable Rogue was still untouchable. Pity." He gave her a feral smile that told her exactly why it was a pity she still couldn't touch.

"Idiot." She muttered, but softened at the slight moment of hesitation before his words.

When John had still gone to Xavier's School, he had been the resident jerk. He had only been friends with Bobby and Rogue. He and Bobby had been friends for a long time, and no one could really pick out the exact moment they had become so. It was just part of everyone's life. Bobby and John would wreak havoc and occasionally argue. That was unavoidable, considering it was John. He had been mean to everyone, even Emily Rachery, a girl with a feline mutation, who was possibly the quietest, kindest girl alive. He was the only one who could make her get angry and react, and he did so quite happily.

Underneath the constant jabs and mean comments, there was some true fondness. John had found something of a friend in Emily. He had always been a troubled teenager, with real emotional problems. He had once punched someone, and actually cried. The only one who knew about that was Emily because she had found him trying to stifle his cries on the shadowed side of the mansion, away from the crowds of kids. He had saved her in the Danger Room when she had fallen into the water. Though it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world, Rogue knew he honestly cared about Emily, in a deeper way than even he could understand.

That was the reason for the hesitation. That was why he had followed her from the Cure clinic. Rogue sighed, and was about to speak when he turned away. She closed her mouth, watching him leave, and then forced herself to speak up.

"Pyro!"

He turned around. "What do you want?" He asked harshly.

"Emily misses you. But she's okay." Rogue said, feeling quite foolish as he tried to continue glaring, but he couldn't. For a moment, their eyes met and he seemed like a small boy, looking for someone to love him, and reassure him that he wasn't too far gone to be forgiven. The moment passed, and he turned around, storming away.

Rogue sighed, and waited for Logan to come. She wondered if John would ever think on those words, or if they meant anything to him at all. She didn't know if she would ever see him again, though it was inevitable that they would. A showdown between the Brotherhood and the X-Men was coming, even though that idea was so cheesy. It was true. It was impossible to avoid. All anyone could do was be ready for it. She just wished that they could be spared the pain. She didn't want to fight, and was sure no one else wanted to. Though no one really talked about the X-Men, she knew none of the adults liked to fight. A showdown had to occur, though.

She crossed her arms over her chest and watched the people walk to work. She took deep, shuddering breaths as she tried to forget what she almost had just done. Emotions were still bubbling to the surface, but she wasn't crying anymore, at least not now. She was sure the moment she was alone (probably in the shower), she would let it all out in huge, dramatic sobs, but she wasn't the type to cry in front of strangers. She kicked a small pebble into the street, antsy for Logan's appearance.

A car carefully parallel-parked several meters away. She looked to it, and Logan stepped out. She let out a sigh of relief and fairly ran towards the car. She opened the door and sat down. She pulled her seatbelt on and started to tremble. Logan was sitting beside her, but hadn't started the car. He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, as she began to let out small whimpers.

"You did the right thing, kid. I'm proud of you." He murmured gently. He settled his chin on the top of her head, letting her cry into his shoulder.

Several minutes later, she had composed herself and they were headed back to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

**XXX**

Warren landed safely on the grounds of Xavier's School, laughing lightly as he folded his wings in so they were stacked neatly on his back. He strode proudly into the kitchen through the back door, noting the grounds were devoid of any students. He glanced at the time, and realized it was only ten o'clock AM, and they were all in class. He raced through the hallways, his footsteps echoing against the walls, as he tried to find Justine. He stopped the small Hispanic woman, Rosalita, who was the head of the housekeeping staff.

"Have you seen Justine? I really, really, really need to talk to her." He explained, out of breath from excitement and his hard flight over.

"She's upstairs, Mr. Worthington. Are you all right? You look flushed." She commented worriedly.

He beamed at her. "No, I'm absolutely fine. No, not fine. I'm excellent." He reported as he ran off, heading for the stairs.

"Justine?" He called as he finally reached the second floor. "Justine?"

"Warren?" She called back, her voice coming from the open door of one of the dorms. "What are you doing back?"

"Just come here." He told her, his voice nearly cracking with joy. "Come on!" He urged her, dancing from foot to foot.

Justine left the room she was cleaning up, an apron tied around her waist and the black shirt that made up the uniform clung to her wonderful curves, his favorite pair of jeans on her legs. Her blonde hair was tied back in a bun, and he marveled at her stunning beauty. He grinned at her and posed, letting his wings stretch out, modeling his full wingspan. She squealed and ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck and jumping at him. He caught her, her legs tightening around his waist. She kissed him passionately, and he stumbled back, using the wall to steady himself.

"Oh, Warren, I'm so happy!" She pulled him even closer, her face buried in his shoulder. "You did the right thing… but wait, what did your father think when you told him that you wouldn't do it?" She asked worriedly, meeting his gaze.

"Well, I didn't exactly tell him." He told her conspiratorially. "I might have broken the glass wall and flown away, but I'm not sure. You should probably watch the news to find out." He told her, grinning. He felt great pride in himself for doing what she thought was right, for pleasing her. Seeing that face-cracking smile made him want to dance.

"Are you okay?" She asked, running her fingers over what skin she could reach, searching for any small cuts or bruises that came from breaking through glass.

"Yes, yes, Justine, I'm fine." He assured her, kissing her. "I'm just so happy to be here with you." He smiled at her and hugged her to his chest. Feeling her respond, his smile grew. Yeah, this was where he was meant to be. As long as he had her, he would be okay. He could survive.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men.**

Seven more days. Only one more week. That was the thought that circulated through Scott's mind when he woke up one beautiful morning, as the light filtered through the blinds and as his fiancée stirred in his arms. He gently extricated himself from the tangled mess of comforter and sheets and stood up, stretching. It was Saturday. There were no classes, and no Danger Room sessions. He was absolutely free to spend the day as he wished. He smiled peacefully as he went into the bathroom and got into the shower.

The last week had been eventful, to say the least. Warren had returned, unCured, his wings still as full and beautiful as they always had been. His relationship with Justine had gotten deeper, and he had asked her to be his girlfriend, to which she had excitedly agreed. They were very happy together. Scott was also proud of Rogue for making the right decision and not taking the Cure. He could only imagine how hard it would have been to step out of that line, but she did it. It wasn't that he was about to make a little mutant army, or that he wanted to have as many students as he could, but rather, he viewed her, and all of his students, as his children, and wanted them to be true to what they had been created to be. They were mutants, and just because humanity couldn't see it didn't mean that there was something wrong with them.

With Rogue's decision, she and Bobby had become even closer. It was as though they had turned a page and were confident in their feelings for each other, and for the other's feelings for them. They found strength in their relationship, and didn't need to find strength from other people for their relationship.

Scott turned the hot water off, quickly missing it, and stepped out. He toweled himself off and dressed in the outfit he had picked out the night before. It was simple; jeans and a plain green t-shirt. However, one didn't need fancy clothes when they were going to take their girlfriend on a romantic motorcycle ride. He grinned at the thought, and left his hair natural, and without any of the usual mousse to keep it in place. Today was a day for them to be young, and not to be teachers or role models or anything other than a couple that was going to be married in a week. He and Jean had forced themselves to get all of the planning done in the last week. The week ahead of them was for enjoying their pre-marital bliss before marital bliss.

He left the bathroom and nearly giggled as he launched himself onto their bed, effectively waking Jean up. She growled at him. "What?" She snapped.

"Good morning beautiful." He greeted sweetly, unfazed by her anger. "We are getting married in a week. And we're also going on a motorcycle ride and a picnic today. Just you and me, away from the school and all of the kids. Since you need to spend as much time as you can away from so much mental noise, I thought it would be nice." He beamed at her.

"Scott, that's so sweet. Give me another few hours, and I'll be excited, I promise, honey." She mumbled, kissing his arm, for that was the closest part of his skin to her, and closed her eyes, intent on sleeping the day away.

"But Jean!" He whined, flopping down and pulling her close. "It's Saturday and we don't have to do anything for those whiny, annoying kids." He smiled as he kissed her cheek. "And we'll be all alone out in the beautiful country, and it'll be wonderful. And I won't let you fall asleep." He grinned as she rolled her eyes and got up.

"Fine, you annoying little bugger." She yawned and walked into the bathroom. "But you so owe me!" She closed the door behind her.

Scott grinned. "Oh, yeah I do." He stood up and pulled on a pair of well-worn sneakers, making sure he had the keys to his motorcycle, as well as his wallet, in case a police officer had the ability and car power to pull him over, but that was nearly impossible. No one really knew about the special addition he had personally put on his motorcycle that pushed it to speeds that seemed impossible for such a little machine. He smirked at the idea. His skills in auto engineering were pretty impressive, weren't they?

Jean walked out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her, and laughed at Scott's blatant stare, entering the walk-in closet. She chose a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, poking her head out the door.

"Where are we going, Scott?" She asked, blowing a drying piece of hair from her face.

"How does a ride on my motorcycle sound?" He asked with a smirk.

Jean bit back an excited squeal and slammed the door shut, dressing quickly. She dug a hairband from a drawer and messily tied her hair back. She pulled down the leather jacket Scott had given her years ago as a commitment present; he was letting her into every area of his life, even the motorcycle part, which was his favorite vehicle. He loved it even more than the Corvette. By giving her a leather jacket, he was telling her he loved her more than any of his possessions, that she was the most important part of his life.

She found a pair of well-loved sneakers and walked out to meet him. She laughed happily, wrapping an arm around his waist. Together, they walked out of the mansion to the garage. It was nine in the morning on a Saturday; there was hardly a soul up. Scott grinned as he sat down on his bike and moved the kickstand. Jean sat behind him, helmet on (though it was a different story with Scott), wrapping her arms around him tightly. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing herself for the adrenaline rush that came from riding behind Scott.

"Ready?" He asked, touching her arm that was around his stomach.

"Yeah!" She responded enthusiastically, though she was nervous. Scott was an absolute maniac on the road, though he controlled his vehicles flawlessly. It was still scary.

Scott turned the key and they were off, probably going ten miles over the speed limit. Jean kept her grip tight and buried her face into his shoulder. She laughed as he took a particularly sharp turn, shrieking slightly. Jean relaxed as they left the city area and started on a country highway.

"Where are we going?" Jean yelled over the sound of the motorcycle and the wind slapping against their faces.

"Just somewhere!" He yelled back, giving her a secretive grin over his shoulder.

Jean sighed, frustrated. She loved surprises, and she had one of those nagging feelings that Scott had been planning something for weeks on end to get it perfect. She loved that Scott always went through so much trouble to keep her happy with him, but he was so secretive. He never gave her any kind of hint at what was ahead.

Scott finally slowed the motorcycle to a halt, and the couple got off of the bike. Jean looked around. They were in front of a large, grassy field that ended several hundred feet away from where they had stopped, and after that, a line of trees began. She glanced her head left and right. There was nothing else in the general area. She turned back to Scott, mouth open to ask a question when she raises an eyebrow at what is in his hands. It was a blindfold.

"What?" Jean asked, gesturing slightly to the blindfold.

"Just trust me, Jean." Scott grinned as he put it over her eyes and tied it gently. He ducked his head to kiss the back of her neck. "You'll be pleasantly surprised, I promise."

"Okay." Jean replied uncertainly. She felt Scott's hand take hers and she gripped it tightly.

Jean stumbled as Scott slowly led her forward with encouraging words and his firm grasp on her hands. The terrain underfoot changed from soft and springy to hard and unmoving. She was slightly afraid of falling over without being able to see what she was falling on, and of not being in control of the situation. It was difficult for her to fully trust Scott as she was, though she knew he would never willfully take her into danger or allow her to be injured. She concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths as Scott continued to lead her further away from the motorcycle and the road.

"Scott, where are we going?" She turned her head in the direction of his mental presence that had always been a comfort to her. From the first moment she met him, a scrawny, blind teenager, she had found him comforting, and as her telepathic abilities developed, his mind seemed familiar to her. She wasn't a big believer in the idea that soulmates know each other when they first meet, but she did think that minds could unconsciously recognize each other, and because of her telepathic abilities, she could sense her own 'soulmate'. But that was just her personal opinion of her and Scott, and it wasn't her scientific, expert opinion.

"Well, we're getting married next week, and I know you've been worried that things will change between us, so I did something to show you that I'm still going to show you how much I love you. I have no idea why you'd think I'd stop doing that." Scott said directly into her ear, kissing her cheek. "We're here."

Scott untied the blindfold as he stood in front of her, careful to make sure he didn't snag her hair. Jean stepped around him and gasped, turning back around. There was a small table set up for two, with a small picnic basket on the grass beside it. Surrounding them was a small patch of rosemary, as if deliberately planted. She knew rosemary was a symbol of fidelity, and turned around to see Scott smiling tenderly at her. She turned back to focus on the bouquet of flowers that laid on the table. They were purple carnations.

"Scott!" Jean squealed like a teenage girl with her first boyfriend. "You are so sweet!"

Scott laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Nah." He shrugged slightly, still smiling. "You're just so pretty." He teased her, poking her sides.

"Well, are we going to eat or are you just going to compliment me?" Jean demanded with a grin. "On second thought, we can do both." She giggled as she pulled Scott along towards the table. "How did you get this rosemary to grow?" She bent down for a moment to pick a sprig.

Scott pulled out her seat and picked up the basket. "I talked to the owner of the land and asked him if he could do me a big favor. He asked me why, I told him it was for my future wife and he agreed. I did the work, and he didn't shoot me." He chuckled nervously as he recalled the huge man with the shotgun who oversaw every move Scott made while on his property.

Jean shook her head, amused that Scott would go through so much trouble just to plant a small patch of rosemary to promise his fidelity to her. She watched as he unpacked the basket. Inside were several sandwiches, potato salad, regular salad, and French bread. She couldn't stop smiling at him. She was continually impressed that he simply got better with age. When they had first gotten together, he was slightly awkward, but charming and kind nonetheless. As they hit their twenties and as both of their confidences spiked, things became more passionate and it was as though they infected each other, but never had they gone further than a long kiss.

It might have been viewed as strange to their contemporaries, but they knew they loved each other. Oh, were they ever attracted to each other. After all of these years, she was still passionate about him and got a bit of a flutter when he hugged her warmly. They had talked about sex early on, and had come to a decision as a couple to only engage in those activities when they were engaged. Maybe it was selfish and bad decision-making, but with the type of work they were in, they never knew when their deaths might come. Though both Scott and Jean were hesitant about sex before marriage, their minds changed after they both had nearly been killed.

Scott offered her a sandwich and she bit into it, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. The sun was shining, they were in a beautiful field and they were together. She took a deep breath and swallowed.

"How did you know I was even nervous?" Jean asked randomly.

Scott grinned. "You may be a telepath, but I know you, Jean."

"So arrogant." She sniffed.

"Well, look at me." He gestured to himself. "I'm gorgeous!"

Jean giggled, swatting him. "Fine, I won't argue that." She rolled her eyes, but suddenly became almost embarrassed. "Are you…?"

"Nervous?" He asked, and Jean nodded. "Of course I am! I'm terrified that things will somehow change between us. I'm so worried that I'll be such a bad husband that you'll leave me, but I'm kind of more scared of hurting you." He sighed, looking into her eyes. "I love you, though."

"I love you too. And you couldn't be a bad husband because you love me so much. I'm worried I'll be a bad wife. I don't really know what that means because we have such a weird life. We don't have a house, so I don't really know what my role is without the cooking and the cleaning." Jean set down her sandwich on the paper plates Scott had put in the picnic basket.

"What do you want from me? Like, as a husband?" Scott asked, putting down his sandwich as well and giving her his full attention. It was a random question, but one that needed to be addressed.

Jean reached over to take his hand and studied his face for a moment. His strong features seemed softened in the morning sun, and though he wasn't in formal wear, he had never appeared more handsome to her. She smiled. "I need someone who will protect me and will always love and accept me. Someone who will listen to me, and not always give me a solution. I need a good father for our family… I really want to have children, Scott, not now, but someday." She, then, turned the question to him. "What do you want from me as a wife?"

Scott considered the question, running his thumbs over the back of her hands. "I need someone to support my leadership, someone for me to come to with all of my problems. I need someone to comfort me when I wake up from a nightmare, no matter how childish that sounds." He took a shaky breath, searching for more of an answer. "I need you to be patient with me and to stand by me." He shook his head slightly. "After all this time, I can't believe we're still together, that you still somehow love me."

Jean laughed. "I can't believe you still love me." She stood up and walked over to him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. "We've come a long way, Scott, and I think we definitely deserve this happy time in our life." She rested her head on his as he pulled her closer.

"Yeah." He agreed softly. "I feel so bad for saying this, but it's kind of… depressing that we don't have our own space, considering we're always surrounded by kids." He smirked.

"Oh, Scott, you disappoint me. Are you telling me you can't be… creative?" Jean teased him.

"No." He answered, almost offended. "I'm telling you that you won't be able to be quiet because I'll be so creative." He gave her a devious smile.

"Scott!" Jean laughed, slapping his arm. "That's so bad."

"But oh so true." Scott added, grinning.

The next several hours passed peacefully as the couple could actually be a couple, and not a team that saved lives and nurtured broken children. They were Scott and Jean, two people who were very much in love and who would be married within a week. Would their lives change drastically? Yes. They would always love each other, but they couldn't change the reactions of a world who would want them dead for their marriage. Two mutants. How scandalous.

But for a moment, they forgot all of that and celebrated their love in private, away from their responsibilities, holding each other, and laughing at nothing in particular. The moment ended, though, and they returned to the mansion to wait out the next week, at the end of which they would finally be legally and truly one.

**The wedding is in the next chapter! Be patient, it's coming! And please, review. It's not that I'll hold the chapters hostage or anything, but it would make me happy if you would.**


	11. Chapter 11

**It's the Jott wedding! YAY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

For the past two months, Scott Summers had known more stress and anticipation than he ever thought possible. He and Jean had tried to do their best to plan and order everything for their wedding in a timely fashion, but it didn't help being two of the few teachers at a school for mutants, and members of a mutant fighting team that protected humanity from themselves. Life often got into the way. A week before the wedding, Jean had spent two hours on the phone, attempting to keep her composure as she negotiated getting the perfect bouquet. She wanted lilies and white roses, not red roses and lilies, and she wasn't about to settle for less than perfect on her (**their**, he constantly reminded her, **their**) special day.

Scott and Jean had fought more than what was thought possible for a loving couple such as they, and that had made the children's mouths start running. Rumors among the student population had spread like wildfire, ranging from 'Ms. Grey is having an affair with Mr. Worthington!' to 'Ms. Grey found out about Mr. Summers' secret stripping job' due to the arguments and the strained atmosphere that hung over the two, despite their happy day drawing nearer and nearer.

The friction between them and the constant humiliation could not daunt Scott's optimism, though he had no idea why Jubilee would believe he was _**bisexual**_ because he and Warren were spending so much time together, since Warren would be his best man. It was hard to bear sometimes, but all he had to do was count down the days in his head, and he would be filled with a schoolboy giddiness that nearly sent him skipping down the hallway.

But now, it was finally here. It was their wedding day. However, it didn't start off so smoothly for Scott.

He groaned as someone threw the door open loudly, started to whoop and holler and jump up and down on his bed. He rubbed his eyes, attempting to kick whoever had disturbed his sleep.

"Scott, guess what!" Warren asked excitedly.

"What?" Scott's voice, darkened by the last lingering effects of sleep and the desperate need for coffee, groaned. "Warren!" He sat up suddenly, looking around at the clock. It was eight A.M. on a Saturday morning, and everyone, even the teachers, slept in. Why was he…? "I'm getting married!" He exclaimed, a grin spreading over his face as he quickly traded in his sleeping visor for his glasses.

"Get up, Scott!" Warren grinned in return as he stepped down onto the floor, his wings fluttering happily behind him, almost glittering to reflect his mood. "Ceremony's at noon, reception's until four, and then you are off to sex up your wife!"

Scott was filled with such sudden jubilance that he couldn't be bothered to rebuke Warren on his crass way of speaking about his and Jean's healthy sex life, though it was all in jest. To the public eye, the heir to Worthington Industries was a gentle, soft-spoken man. He was a respectful gentleman. Warren, however, didn't believe he had time for his usual manners since his best friend was going to be married to the loveliest woman alive. Warren nodded as Scott rattled off a bunch of orders ("Get our suits from the closet, and Ororo has the flower Jean picked out for my front pocket. Don't you dare forget my vows, or I will damn sure **kill** you, Worthington!") before rushing into the adjoined bathroom to shower and prepare himself for the day ahead of him.

Warren smirked. People thought that only women were demanding and… _precious_ on their wedding days.

Scott was about to burst because he was so happy. After so long, they were finally getting married and nothing was about to get in their way. He, of course, was stricken with a sudden worry that Magneto would come and attack them, but it didn't seem possible. Jean, of all people, deserved that this day, of all days, would be perfect. He couldn't stop smiling, even when he accidentally put shower gel in his hair instead of shampoo. It was his wedding day, and if he smelled like red tangerines (yeah, it had been Jean's shower gel), then that was okay.

He stepped out of the shower and wrapped his towel around his waist. He stood in front of the mirror and meticulously combed and moussed his hair to perfection. He had never been one for hairstyles and products, but on important occasions, like this day could be construed as, he was known for a bit of gel or mouse to keep everything in place. After that, he brushed his teeth four times and nearly choked on the amount of mouthwash he used. He found his favorite cologne and used a conservative two spritzes for effect. He knew that Jean found him more huggable with this particular cologne. God, she was going to look beautiful, wasn't she? He hadn't seen the dress, but Jean looked amazing in anything. He nearly drifted off into a daydream like a blushing schoolboy with his first crush. He snapped out of it and then walked out.

Warren had laid out Scott's outfit on the bed, obviously careful not to crumple anything. Scott shook his head. He had to apologize for being so demanding, but the blonde was used to the abuse. Warren wasn't exactly an angel either, though his wings might suggest it.

Scott busied himself with finding something to wear before the ceremony. He had been placed in charge of getting everything ready for the reception while Jean planned their honeymoon (after they both picked out the destination, of course). He sighed. Four hours. Four hours until he was married. It was a frightening thought and he swallowed. He wasn't the type to bolt, but that didn't mean he didn't think about it.

He finally settled on a simple pair of black slacks and a brown mock turtleneck that was appropriate for company, but not too stuffy or annoying. He found a more formal pair of shoes and headed out of the door.

He was suddenly stricken by a wave of longing for Jean. Of all of the days they were both present in the mansion and available for each other's company at night, they had not spent a night apart. Thankfully, this was the last night they would ever be parted, but the traditions he and Jean had decided on were more grating than he had imagined. He couldn't see the dress, he hadn't seen her for the past day, and it was just not good for his sanity. Hopefully his gift for her would make up for it.

He knew of the 'something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue' tradition and decided to add his own part. It was now 'something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue, and something from someone who will always love you', if one looked at the note he sent with the box that held the diamond earrings he had found for her.

Yes, Scott was, by nature, a romantic person. He couldn't think of something that gave him more pleasure than seeing Jean light up because of something he did. He had discovered that when he had given her a present for her birthday years ago, and when he had seen her smile, he had found many ways to garner the same effect. This was no different. He had withdrawn money from the Roth IRA that had been sitting around since he was a teenager and searched for the perfect something to give Jean on their wedding day. He had spotted the earrings in the window of Tiffany's and couldn't live without them.

"Hey, Scott," Ororo caught his attention as he walked down the staircase. "Car pulled up. I think it's the pastor. Show him to the gardens. Everyone's setting up, and he'll need to get settled."

Scott nodded and went to the door. Pastor Michael Yakabowski was a man he knew as a child. For several years, Scott lived on the streets, stealing what he could to survive. One day, it had been a virtual downpour and Pastor Michael and his youth group were doing some mission work in New York, and somehow, the two had stumbled upon each other. In a show of love, Pastor Michael offered the scrawny teenager his jacket and a hot lunch at a nearby café. That day had changed his life. He hadn't stopped stealing until Xavier pulled him off of the streets, and his street habits (smoking, drinking and excessive swearing) didn't wear off for almost three years, but something in Scott had softened when someone finally showed him some love and gave simply for the joy of giving. Pastor Michael had given him hope again.

He pulled it open to reveal a man in his early forties, carrying a suit on a hanger and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers. The man had shockingly blond hair and gentle brown eyes that easily set him apart from the crowd. He had a Bible tucked underneath his arm, and an almost maniacal grin was gracing his face.

"Well, well, well, Mr. Scott Summers. I do believe you are getting married today. I'm sorry, my friend, that you are about to take the plunge." Pastor Michael informed Scott solemnly. "Do you need some comfort?" He asked seriously.

Scott faced the man he had kept in contact with over the years, through email and phone calls dropped here and there, and the occasional, hurried lunch. He took a deep breath and sighed, letting his head drop. "Yes, I do." He muttered, almost brokenly.

Pastor Michael nodded and slowly moved closer to the younger man and wrapped him into a bone-crushing bear hug, swinging him around as he laughed uproariously. "Scott, my boy! You're getting married! I know I was excited before, but today's the day!" He let go and slapped Scott on the back. "Where is the beautiful bride?" He looked around. "Did she bolt already? I assume she finally realized just how… I'm sorry, there are simply no words to describe the difference in attractiveness."

Scott laughed. "She's upstairs getting ready. Or something, I don't know. I don't get to see her until the ceremony. All I get to do is let everyone in and stay out of the way. It sucks, Michael." He grinned, tossing an arm over the other man's shoulder. "Let me show you to the gardens."

"Scott, I've been here before." Pastor Michael pointed out with a laugh. "All two of the rehearsals, plus the rehearsal dinner. Don't worry, kid, everything will be great, and you'll be bored out of your mind. But then you'll get to put that spiffy suit on and become Mr. Scott Grey. Or she'll become Mrs. Scott Summers. I can never remember."

**XXX**

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…" Warren rambled on and on as he ran around the mansion, desperate in his search. This could not be happening. Of all the things to happen. It could have been worse. He could have lost the scarf he was going to give Justine or something really important like that. But this… he was so dead. Death by eye lasers. How would that feel like? Not pleasant, though it would hurt a lot more because Scott would make it much more painful and drawn out.

"Feathers, what's up with you?" Logan asked casually as he leaned against the wall in the kitchen.

Warren looked up, frantic. "Have you seen Scott's vows?" He asked, his voice nearly a squeak. "… Not that I've lost them… or anything like that." He added quickly, shifting nervously, raking his fingers through his blonde hair. He looked up when Justine walked into the kitchen, his fears immediately alleviated. Justine was incredible when it came to calming him down and fixing his situation. He gave her a weary smile as she pecked his cheek.

"What are you up to, Warren?" She asked him pleasantly, giving an incurable smile to Logan as well.

"I haven't seen Cyke's vows. I've been here all day." Logan answered, taking sadistic pleasure in seeing Justine's eyes widen and hearing her disbelieving scoff.

"WARREN!" Justine nearly shrieked. "I can't believe you lost them! You know how important such a thing is today! Of all days, Warren Worthington the Third, I swear you will be dead before sundown." She put her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Get your butt moving and FIND them!"

Warren flinched, turning to scowl at Logan, but the other man had already left. "I can't believe him!" He muttered hatefully.

"It's not his fault, Warren!" Justine stormed over to him, taking hold of his arm and pushing him out of the kitchen. "Now, go look and I'll think about not mentioning it to Scott or Jean when I help them get ready!" She ordered him, but her look softened at his wounded look. "Damn pretty boy…" She growled.

"Yeah, yeah," Warren beamed at her last statement and leaned down to kiss her. "I'm sorry." He gave her a warm hug. "You look particularly beautiful today, Justine."

"Don't think I'm still not mad at you." She mumbled into his shirt as she wrapped her arms around him. She lingered, and then pushed him gently. "Go! You have an hour or so before you need to get ready. Don't worry about the boutonnière. I put it on Scott's room next to his suit. Mrs. Grey and Ororo and a couple of the girls are helping Jean get ready. And don't forget to comb your hair." She teased him, running her fingers through it.

"You are the best!" Warren tossed over his shoulder as he ran off to find his friend's vows.

Justine sighed, shaking her head as she watched her boyfriend sprint away to find Scott's vows. She looked down at her plain clothes, and sighed. Secretly, she was very much worried about how she'd look with Warren. When it was just the two of them with no one around who knew them, it was fine. She felt so comfortable around him, but it was the pressure of being around people that was getting to her. On the other hand, she had no reason to be nervous. It was Scott and Jean's wedding; no one cared what anyone was wearing! This was something everyone had been anticipating for a long time.

Justine had been working at the school for three years, and it was definitely the strangest job she had ever taken. She had been interviewed by a guy who couldn't take his sunglasses off, and her tour guide around the mansion had been a woman with white hair who could control the weather. Pancake platters floated around during breakfast and they had a constant source of tuna at every meal for a girl with a feline mutation. The kitchen was constantly raided by a water-manipulator and a boy who could move through time to make brownies. And last, her boyfriend was one of the richest men alive, and he had wings. She shook her head as she walked upstairs to get ready. This was a weird place, but they all needed this day. She wasn't a mutant, but she felt every loss and pain the mutant community did because they were her family. They needed this day to be happy for once. Just one small victory, and they could keep moving on through the losses.

**XXX**

Jean Grey looked at her reflection in the mirror in her one-night bedroom for the twenty-second time that minute and examined her hairstyle. She had hired a personal stylist to do her hair and makeup for the special day, and it looked fabulous on her, but that didn't mean the butterflies in her stomach calmed. Everything was coming together perfectly on her wedding day, but she was so nervous. She found her hands were nearly trembling and her breathing was erratic. She forced herself to stop moving and draw a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. She closed her eyes. When she opened them, she found herself more centered. There were the lingering anxieties, but it was under control for the most part.

She jumped when the door opened behind her to reveal Ororo who, like Jean, was still in casual jeans and a t-shirt. She was carrying a large hanger covered by a black dress bag. Jean eyed it warily and then stood up, accepting it.

"Where's my mother?" She asked wearily.

"She's coming to help you with that soon. Your father is being entertained by Scott and Pastor Michael, both of whom are downstairs and they're coordinating everything. Don't worry, Jean. Everything's perfect." Ororo smiled, blinking away her tears. "Gosh, you look so beautiful. I can't believe you're getting married today!"

"Yeah. Me neither." Jean replied, somewhat distantly. It wasn't that she didn't want to marry Scott. She loved him so much it ached to be away from him for one night (she cursed her stupid idea to keep with tradition) but she was still so scared. Would the dress fit? Would she trip and fall onto someone? Would her younger cousin Barry try to sneak liquor in? What if Scott suddenly bolted? What if someone ripped her dress? "Oh my God, Ororo, I'm freaking out!"

Ororo gave her a concerned look and then put an arm around her. "I know you are. Being nervous is normal. Just think of seeing Scott in his suit and finally getting to this. You two deserve some happiness after everything you've done. Don't worry. It'll be perfect, just like you dreamed." She smiled at her friend's reflection.

"Unless my mother expresses her undying hatred for my husband-to-be." Jean muttered. She loved her mother, but Elaine Grey wasn't Scott's biggest fan. She sighed, trying not to let herself get overwhelmed by the very thought of her mother starting something at her wedding. She took another deep breath. This was going to be the longest hour until the ceremony. At least she didn't have to worry about late guests. Her family was notorious for being early or exactly on time, and the rest of the guests lived at the mansion. Her heart ached as she thought of Scott; he didn't have any family to share this day with.

"Oh, my baby looks so beautiful!" Elaine Grey cooed over her daughter the moment she walked into the room, an undeterminable amount of time later as the two young women had sat in silence.

Jean flushed slightly and looked down. "Mother, I'm not even dressed yet." She muttered. She stood up from where she was sitting on the bed and straightened her t-shirt, suddenly awkward, and then turned to Ororo for some help. "Could you go down to make sure everything's okay?" She asked, her brown eyes begging her friend. She needed this time with her mother.

Ororo grinned. "Sure." She reached over and gave Jean another hug. "Don't worry about it, Jean. Everything will be perfect, and Scott's going to fall over." She giggled at the thought, bid Mrs. Grey farewell and left the room.

Elaine busied herself with taking the black dress bag off of the hanger. She admired the beautiful dress that was lying innocently on the bed. It was strapless with an empire waist, silver thread detailing the hems. It was very simple, and Jean had always dreamed of something ostentatious, but when it came to choosing something… it seemed inappropriate for her. All she could give Scott was her love. There was no point in wearing something flamboyant. Elaine picked it up gently and held it up to her beautiful, grown up daughter. She smiled, tears pricking at her eyes.

"You will look so beautiful." Elaine murmured.

"Oh, Mom." Jean whispered in return and they hugged gently, careful not to scrunch up the dress between them. "Here, let me take this." She took the dress from her mother and went into the neighboring bathroom.

Jean stared at her reflection in the bathroom, holding the dress up to herself. She'd worn it before, but it was now so real. She was getting to married today. She blushed as she thought about Scott. She was still so nervous, but it made her so happy. She undressed and then stepped into her wedding gown. She struggled with the side zipper, and then called for her mother. Elaine opened the door and helped Jean with the zipper. The younger Grey woman adjusted the dress so it clung correctly to her breasts, though it didn't show any cleavage. She took a deep breath.

"What do you think?" Jean asked timidly. "Will he like it?"

Elaine's eyes filled with tears and a few slipped down her cheeks. "Oh, Jean! My baby, you are so beautiful! I'm so happy for you! You're getting married today! Married!" She inhaled sharply. "Will he like it? Like Ororo said, he will fall over. You are absolutely stunning."

Jean smiled slightly. "What time is it?" She changed the subject, hoping her mother's joy would not turn to volatile anger. There had been a constant struggle between her mother and Scott. Scott had never done anything wrong except be the absolute perfect gentleman to his girlfriend's parents, but Elaine had never thought he was good enough, and always found things to harp on about. Jean could only hope she was putting that aside for one day.

"You have a half an hour, darling." Elaine told her, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. "How are you doing?"

"I'm nervous, Mom." She confided softly. "I'm scared things will change. I'm scared he'll change. I'm scared something really stupid will happen and ruin today. We've waited for so long for things to be right, and we deserve happiness. He deserves a perfect day for once." She sighed, looking down at her hands. "I know I should be happy, but I'm only nervous, scared and almost sad."

"Why are you sad?" Her mother asked, putting an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"Because I'm so lucky to have you and Dad and our family here, not to mention my friends." Jean explained. "And Scott doesn't have anyone. The closest thing he has to family is Professor Xavier and Warren. But they're still just good friends." She heaved a sigh, and then looked up as the door opened once more.

"I hope I'm not intruding?" Warren gracefully entered the room with a small smile on his face. "Mrs. Grey, you seem to only become more beautiful every time I see you." He greeted her with a warm handshake before turning his attention to the bride.

Warren couldn't do anything but stare at her for a moment, and he forgot about his errand. He felt tears burn behind his eyes, but he withheld his emotion. He immediately crossed to her and wrapped her up in his arms. "You look so beautiful, Jean. You really do. I'm almost a little jealous." He quipped as he pulled away to admire her.

Jean laughed. "A little? What are you trying to say, Mr. Worthington?"

Warren smirked. "Nothing, my dear." He brightened, remembering why he had come. "I have something for you, though. A little delivery from a certain Scott Summers." He took the small box from his pocket and handed her the note on beautiful stationary.

"Oh, thank you." She said, surprised. She gently sat down on the bed and opened the note. She read it aloud.

"Jean," It read. "I know you love tradition, and are honoring the age-old one: something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. I know the diamond pins in your hair were your grandmother's, your shoes are new, you're borrowing your mother's hairstyle from her wedding, and your necklace has a sapphire. Well, I would like to add something to that list: something from someone who will always love you."

Jean felt her eyes filling with tears as she opened the small box to see a pair of diamond earrings that coordinated with her necklace, though the earrings were clear diamonds. She marveled at them, covering her mouth in shock. She looked up at Warren, who seemed rather impressed as well. She giggled and promptly put the earrings in place. They dangled slightly, but not in a showy way. Scott really did know her.

"There. You look perfect." Warren murmured, pulling her close once more. "I know we've all been through so much," He whispered quietly, his words inaudible to Elaine. "And I know the X-Men have taken so much from you. You deserve today, Jean. It's your day to have something normal. I love you; you're the sister I never got. I'm so glad that you can finally be happy with Scott." He told her seriously.

Jean sniffed, trying not to cry. She didn't want to cry before the ceremony and ruin her makeup. "Thank you, Warren, I love you too!" She hugged him tightly. "Now, is everything ready?" She placed her hands on his shoulder, and then suddenly winced, leaning against him for support as he caught her.

"What's wrong?" Elaine asked, her voice quickly reaching ultrasonic in worry for her baby.

Jean clung to Warren, attempting to focus. She had chosen this bedroom to purposefully be away from most of the school's inhabitants, and she had placed temporary mental barriers around the room, but it seems with the increase of people, her barriers had dissipated. She blinked several times, taking deep, measured breaths to regain control over herself.

"I'm fine, Mom. Don't worry." She gave her a slightly tired smile. "I've been having some trouble with my powers, and all of the mental noise just comes bursting in. It's a little painful, but I'm fine." She gave her mother a small white lie so she wouldn't worry, but Warren knew differently. He gave her a disapproving look, but didn't comment.

"I'll see you both at the ceremony. I have to run a few small errands, and then retrieve my date." He kissed Elaine's hand and hugged Jean once more before taking his leave.

Jean sat down on the bed to regain her composure. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not on her wedding day. She didn't want to have a meltdown when everything was supposed to be perfect.

"Jean." Her mother caught her attention.

"Yes?" She looked up.

"Twenty more minutes."

Jean smiled, despite her worries. Twenty more minutes and then she would be waiting to walk down the aisle. Finally.

**XXX**

Scott Summers surveyed the crowd that was gathering to take their seats in the spacious garden. He stood in front of all of the chairs, dressed smartly in his tuxedo. He adjusted the cuffs in his nervousness, but then turned his attention back to his surroundings. It was a beautiful fall day. Red and golden leaves had fallen to the grass, but there were no clouds in the sky. He felt the heat, but it was a gentle warmth, instead of a scorching pain. He took a deep breath of the cool air and found himself smiling slightly.

"You're finally here, man." Warren murmured from his spot as best man, though he would leave to get to his spot in mere moments. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, Warren." Was all Scott could manage through the lump in his throat as Warren walked away. He was full of contradictions. One minute he was completely calm and at peace, the next, he was conflicted and nervous. He wasn't sure how he was going to handle his emotions, and he almost felt lost. Shouldn't he be happy? He was, though. He was happy, but he was also terrified out of his mind. There were so many things that could make this day go terribly wrong, especially for him and Jean. He wanted something to go right for them.

Pastor Michael Yakabowski held his Bible in front of him as he waited for the ceremony to start, though he was watching his friend out of the corner of his eye. He turned his full attention to Scott when the younger man seemed to stare off into the distance. He arched his eyebrow slightly, silently asking if something was amiss.

"Nothing." Scott lied. "Just nerves."

Michael smirked. "Well, you should probably try to contain your girlish screams." He commented lightly, as though nothing in the situation had changed.

"What?" Scott asked, before his eyes turned to see a slight bustle in the back, an obvious sign that Jean was ready. He suddenly forgot how to breathe in his fright.

The string quartet for the ceremony began a light melody as Jean's small nieces began to walk down the aisle, tossing flower petals left and right. They giggled as they tossed them at each other, but their mischief lasted only a moment and served to make the moment sweeter. Warren and Ororo followed the flower girls, arm in arm. Ororo held a small bouquet of lilies in her hand, and Warren's boutonnière was a tiny white rose.

While most modern weddings now had color schemes, he and Jean had decided to stay very traditional. Her dress was completely white, and the only accent was a small sapphire necklace. Dark blue was the only accent color they had chosen, though it hadn't mattered to him. It hurt his head to look at too many colors, so the abundance of white was easier on his brain.

Scott couldn't help but smile at his two friends as they separated in front of Pastor Michael. Ororo stood off to Pastor Michael's right, whereas Scott and Warren were on his left. Ororo's maid of honor dress was dark blue and simple, and Warren's tie matched her dress. Scott wasn't thinking of such small things, though. He was more concentrated on calming his racing heart and figuring out how to use his respiratory system once more.

And then, suddenly, there she was. Scott's world stopped as she stepped out from the school on her father's arm, onto the white carpet of sorts they had ordered so no one's dress would be grass-stained. He swallowed thickly and watched her glide effortlessly, like an angel that he most certainly did not deserve to be marrying. He met her eyes, and tears sparkled in her beautiful brown eyes. He gave her a heartfelt and tearful smile of his own. He was glad for his glasses; they hid the tears that threatened to fall down his face.

He wasn't one for public displays of emotion, but finally, they were here. After so much waiting, they were finally getting married. The day was here. He was standing in front of his bride, waiting for her to join him so they could vow themselves to each other for eternity. He couldn't stop from smiling at her as she seemed to advance slowly, but then, she was directly in front of him, bidding farewell to her father.

"I love you, Dad." She whispered.

"I love you too." John Grey kissed his daughter's cheek, and then turned to Scott. "You're a good man, my boy. Welcome to the family." He shook Scott's hand firmly and warmly.

"Thank you." Scott managed, and then turned to his bride. He flashed her another brilliant smile (his joy was insatiable now that she was standing at his side).

Pastor Michael looked at the happy couple and took a deep breath, glancing for a quick moment up at the sky. He sent a silent prayer up to heaven, thanking God that all of his prayers for this kid had finally paid off. He had only wished for Scott's happiness from the day he had met him in the rain. Now, Scott would be happy with his woman, and things could only improve for him. He turned his attention back to the crowd and the couple.

"We have come here to witness the union of Scott Summers and Jean Grey. Marriage… is not easy. It's not fun all of the time. It's not a fairytale, but in all of my years, I have never seen a couple better suited to start such a journey together. You've gone through many troubles to finally reach this point, and you deserve all of the happiness you will find in marriage to one another." Michael gave them a winning smile. "But if there's anyone who would contest to such a marriage, please, step forward so you can be promptly thrown out." He quipped, causing a laugh, but a tense, although brief, moment hung in the air.

Jean took a shuddering breath and fought the urge to screw her eyes shut. She and Logan had talked, and he understood why she had chosen Scott, but she had worried. Jean met Scott's eyes through his glasses, and knew he was worried for the same thing, but the terse moment passed, and attention returned back to Michael.

"The couple has chosen to write their own vows, so, Scott, if you will." Michael gestured, and Scott turned to Warren.

Warren procured the vows he had found in his desk drawer and handed them to Scott. The groom looked down at the words and then folded the piece of paper. He didn't need to read the speech. His vows were only the words he had written on his heart so long ago, when he promised his entire being to her. He had them memorized and would never forget them.

Scott reached out and took her hands, holding them gently as he smiled at her. "Jean, you are so beautiful, and I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else. There is no one more patient, more understanding or more loving than you. I promise to never forsake you, to always be the one at your side. I will stand by you, and choose you above all others. I am yours, and I am the most blessed man alive to have been chosen by you. I love you, Jean." He promised her, and his heart had never been filled with more love for her. She was absolutely perfect for him, and he would always stand by her. There was no other choice for him; doing anything else was inconceivable.

Jean took a hand from Scott's grasp to wipe her eyes that were leaking with happy tears. She had so often dreamt of this moment, as a girl, and then as a woman when she knew Scott. He was saying those beautiful words to her, and finally, things seemed complete. She had no idea why she had been nervous. This was right. This was where she was meant to be.

Jean took her vows from Ororo as well, but did not need to read them either. She had the words memorized because she knew Scott so well. She knew what he needed to hear, she knew what he needed promised to him in front of all of their friends, and she was happy to comfort him with her love.

"Scott Summers, you are the only man I will ever love. I promise to be faithful to you and you alone, through all of my years. We have laughed and we have loved, through all of the hard times. We have not allowed anything to rip us apart, though at times it has seemed the entire world was trying. I give myself to you for the rest of our days together. I love you, Scott."

By this time, Scott's cheeks were wet with tears that were falling, and Jean was sure she looked like a mess, even with the waterproof makeup the makeup artist had applied. She swallowed, holding his hands tightly as she stared up into his face. She loved him. She loved him. She would never tire of his company, of his face, of him. She loved him so profoundly it almost physically hurt her.

Pastor Michael wasn't about to cry. Pastors didn't cry at these sorts of things. He had a slight dust particle in his eye, after all. He wiped offending particle from his eye, and then continued. He looked at the two, and then smiled.

"The rings?" He glanced at Ororo and Warren. The rings safely placed in the groom and bride's hands, he continued on. "Scott, repeat after me as you put this ring on your bride, the sign of your fidelity and eternal love."

Scott readied the ring, though his fingers were shaking.

"With this ring," Michael stated.

"With this ring," Scott repeated, his eyes focused on only Jean's face. He loved her. "I do thee wed." He finished, adjusting the simple golden band around her finger lovingly.

"Jean, repeat after me as you place this ring on the finger of your groom, this sign of your fidelity and love." Michael watched her as she held Scott's version of their agreed-upon golden ring. "With this ring, I do thee wed."

"With this ring, I do thee wed." Jean whispered, for that was all her throat could muster as she gave Scott his ring and forever promised herself to him. She was his, and she would have it no other way.

Pastor Michael couldn't help the joyful grin that spread over his face.

"By the power vested in me by the Almighty God and the state of New York," Maybe it was him going crazy, but he had the sudden urge to yell, 'Go Knicks!'. Not that he did or anything. "I now pronounce you man and wife." He paused for dramatic effect, and just to see Scott squirm from anticipation. He smirked. "You may kiss your bride."

Scott slowly drew her close to him, and they enjoyed their closeness for a brief moment. Jean tilted her face upwards, ready to receive his kiss, but was surprised. They had kissed so many times, and she hadn't thought marriage would change something so simple as a kiss, but it did. The fervent kiss that joined their lips had a whole new meaning. They were finally married. Jean returned the kiss passionately, but they broke apart soon for propriety's sake.

Scott entangled their fingers together as Pastor Michael led them from the gardens into the extravagant ballroom in Xavier's mansion that was reserved for such formal occasions, though this was the first wedding reception to ever be held. Jean leaned against her husband, unable to articulate any emotion. She was just so happy she could have jumped up and down, screaming her love for him for hours.

**XXX**

Twenty minutes later, all of the guests were situated at their appropriate tables, and Scott sat at the 'head' table with Warren, Ororo, Elaine and John Grey, and Jean, who was currently sitting on his lap, feeding him food from her plate, his plate untouched for the moment. He held her against him, laughing occasionally at something she said, and responding sweetly.

"I love you." Jean told him factually, bumping her nose against his.

"I love you too." He replied with a grin.

A sudden clinking drew their attention away from each other. Warren had stood up, gently tapping the side of his champagne flute with his fork. He adjusted his suit and then smiled when he realized he had all attention on him. The band for the reception had not yet begun playing, so the microphone was quickly in his hand.

"As the best man, I do believe it is my right to toast the happy couple." Warren began, and Scott bit back a groan. This could not be good. Warren was his best friend, but when Warren was happy, he was often delirious.

"I've known both Scott and Jean since we were teenagers. Then, they were bumbling, awkward and generally graceless. But they grew up, and did so together. Their friendship grew, and then love… blossomed. There was never a moment that I doubted them. I knew them. They would go all the way, and today is proof of that. Through every hardship you two have had to suffer, you have proved that you belong together. I love you guys. I wish you all of the best as you enter a new life together. To Scott and Jean!" He tilted his glass slightly towards them, the perfect show of public suaveness, but the couple could see the sincerity that surpassed his outward charm.

Scott nodded to him and gave him a thankful pat on the back. The microphone was passed over to Ororo, and by the way tears were pricking at his eyes, he was thankful they had only chosen to have one person each. Jean's eyes were already overflowing with happy tears.

Ororo regarded them silently, and then burst out into a smile. "Scott, Jean… life has never been easy for you two. Through the flu, death of pets, and an obsession with Bon Jovi, Jean!" Ororo said pointedly, making her friend blush and the crowd laugh. "You have managed to come through. Marriage won't be easy for you, but I know that without a doubt… it will be a beautiful journey that will be worth every pain and trial. You prove that love can and will overcome all, and that love is the most powerful defense of all." She smiled, wiping away her tears. "To the Summers'!"

Scott suddenly froze. He had thought of hearing them referred to as such, but he hadn't heard anyone else say it. It sounded so strange, but so… right. He smiled at Jean and kissed her cheek fondly as things seemed to settle down and people began to eat.

However, time seemed to pass quickly while they were in each other's company, and the lead singer of the band that had been playing instrumental tunes so far faced the microphone on a stand in front of him, for he also played acoustic guitar, and began to speak. "I do believe it is time for a certain couple to have their first dance. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome with me… Scott and Jean Summers!"

Scott stood up and offered her his hand. "Will you dance with me, Jean?" He asked her with a grin on his face.

"Of course I will." She accepted his hand and they walked to the dance floor.

Scott placed a hand on her hip and took one hand. She rested the other hand on his shoulder and leaned her head against his chest as the slow melody of "This Never Happened Before" by Paul McCartney thrummed through the room.

_This is the way it's supposed to be,_

_I met you, and now I see,_

_This is the way it should be._

_This is the way it should be for lovers._

_They shouldn't go it alone._

_It's not so good when you're on your own._

Scott closed his eyes as he held his wife closer. _**Wife**_. It was such a strange term, for he had longed to call her that for so long, and it felt odd on his tongue, but… he sighed happily. This was the way it was meant to be for them. It had taken years of perseverance, but finally, they were married. He was finally completely hers, and she was completely his. There was nothing that could come between them. Ever.

"I love you." He murmured directly into her ear. He chuckled as she murmured the phrase in return, and held her closer. He closed his eyes. Finally.


	12. Chapter 12

**Ooooh, the Jott honeymoon!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, Robi Wexler or Emily Rachery.**

Jean smiled as she closed her eyes, still dancing in Scott's arms, though the song had changed to another slow tune, and many other couples had joined them. She laid her head on his chest and he gave her a gentle squeeze. She knew, as she had known for a long time, she was meant to be with Scott. She was smarter than to determine how she felt about someone from a dance, but when she danced with Scott, she felt safe. She was assured of the fact she was the center of his world and she was a goddess to him.

"Scott?" She caught his attention and he angled his head slightly so she saw he was paying attention. "I really love you. We're actually married now. I can't believe it's finally real." She kissed his cheek and heard him chuckle.

"I love you too, Jean." He answered and seemed about to say something else when he stopped moving with the music.

Scott had been holding his bride as they danced to another song when someone tapped his shoulder, causing him to stop abruptly. He looked to see Logan. His anger bubbled slightly underneath the surface, but he surveyed the other mutant indifferently.

"You don't mind if I cut in for a bit, do you, Cyke?" Logan asked calmly.

Scott looked down to see Jean regarding Logan with only the happiness of a bride. He trusted Jean after she had admitted her feelings about Logan, and promised herself to him through marriage. Most things about their relationship wouldn't change just because they were married; he would still get frustrated when she interrupted him when he was working out or going through Danger Room sessions, and she would still reprimand him when he left the bathroom a mess. But this, his fear of her leaving him for Logan, it had changed. He had slowly come to the realization he didn't have to trust Logan with his wife. He now simply had to trust Jean, and he could do that.

Although he simply wanted to respond with a, "No, bitch.", he could look at Jean and remain calm and impassive. He took a deep breath, detecting her slight perfume as he did so, and then answered evenly. "Sure, Logan. I'll see you in a bit, Jean. I love you." He gave her a winning smile and kissed her. He gauged Logan's reaction as he pulled away, but found none. He cursed the other man inwardly, but stalked off arrogantly anyway.

Jean found herself breathless from Scott's kiss, though she knew he had done it to mark his territory. As if the rather public wedding hadn't been enough. She smiled as she and Logan joined hands and began to dance. They were quiet for several moments and Jean relaxed, assuming Logan wasn't going to mention…

"So, married to Cyke?" Logan raised an eyebrow.

Jean raised her eyebrows, amused. "Yeah. I thought I'd keep him around." She answered nonchalantly.

Logan chuckled. "Yeah. What's his problem, anyway? Seemed a little uptight." He casually commented, glancing in Scott's direction before turning his attention back to Jean.

"He's just a little worried you're going to try something." Jean confided in him, slightly amused with Scott's behavior. As if he had anything to worry about. Jean had once been in danger of doing something rash, but she had made her decision and she did not regret it. She stopped wondering what could have been with Logan, and realized that she was going to have so much more with Scott, and Scott would give her everything she ever wanted.

Logan smirked. "He should be worried."

Jean couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, I'm sure." She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad you came. I didn't want you to miss today." She gave him a sweet smile that quickly turned wicked. "And I most certainly didn't want to miss seeing you and Ororo dance. What was that about?"

Logan shrugged. "Nothing." He lied, and Jean didn't need to be entirely too sensitive to stray electrical impulses from people's brains to know that.

Jean smiled knowingly, and they enjoyed their dance. The second after the song ended, Scott had reappeared at her side, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She giggled as she turned around to put her arms around his neck. She nudged his nose with hers and kissed him.

"Jealous." She teased him.

"No. Just cautious." He replied solidly, shaking his head. "I missed you, though." He told her sweetly.

Jean smirked. "Yeah, I bet you did." She kissed him again. "I missed you, too."

"Um, everyone?" Bobby Drake stood on the small stage that had been erected for the band, in front of the microphone, looking slightly awkward. "Could I have your attention? Thanks." He looked over his shoulder to make sure the other three teenagers were still with him. "So, we're students of Mr. and Mrs. Summers, and we got a couple different presents for them, as our teachers and as a, uh, new married couple." He quickly whirled around and gestured for Alyssa Earnest, a girl two years his junior, to step forward.

"Okay, hi." She smiled sweetly, looking adorable in her teal party dress and low black heels. She tossed her hair over her shoulder to keep it out of the way and then focused on the crowd. "So, the first thing we got is two tickets to see the Broadway musical, Spamalot." She held up the envelope in her hand and then handed it to her friend, Emily, to hold. "We also got Mrs. Summers a whole basket of spa treatments. Facials, pedicure and manicure supplies and some bubble bath. And for Mr. Summers, since we kind of guessed he wouldn't be into that sort of thing." She grinned. "We got him a season pass to the auto shows in the area, as well as a new set of wrenches."

Behind her, Bobby and Piotr held up the baskets of gifts. Alyssa turned back to the crowd, flushing slightly as Robi Wexler, a young man in eleventh grade, held up a box, beaming, but from where Scott and Jean were standing, they couldn't read the writing.

Alyssa's flush turned into a cheek-staining blush as she took a deep breath and looked away, running her fingers through her hair, embarrassed. "Oh, and… uh… condoms." She mentioned, humiliated.

Jean flushed, laughing as she buried her face in her husband's shoulder. He could only laugh and shake his head at his students. They were certainly… creative. And bold. Not many students would give their teachers condoms. Maybe it was a mutant thing.

She looked directly at the couple, her eyes wide, "I swear, Mr. Summers, I had nothing to do with it. It was Robi and Bobby's idea!" She turned around and scowled at the two boys and then walked off of the stage to hide her embarrassment. There was nothing wrong with condoms, per se, it was just really weird because the Summers' were their teachers. Stupid boys.

Bobby grinned, and he, Robi and Emily left the stage, allowing the band to take over.

Scott was still laughing as the band struck up the music once more, nearly to the point of snorting. Jean rolled her eyes, still slightly embarrassed. The kids were very generous in their gifts, but… interesting. She felt her stomach rumble just as the catering service brought their enormous wedding cake out, along with a knife and plates. Jean grinned, giggling as she pulled Scott over to where the cake was set. Scott followed her, equally excited. This was his favorite tradition, the cutting of the cake and the eating of the cake.

Scott grinned as everyone gathered around, some of the younger students weaving through the crowd to get a better look. He picked up the knife and Jean covered his hand with hers. He smiled at her and together, they pressed the blade into the soft vanilla frosting covering white cake. They cut out an entire piece and lifted it onto a plate. Someone offered him a fork and he took it, handing it to Jean as he took the next one. He cut off a bite-sized wedge entirely of cake and Jean got mostly frosting. He was okay with that. He was a sane person; he liked frosting.

Together, they fed each other a piece of their wedding cake, and Jean laughed as she found a napkin to wipe off the side of his mouth as she accidentally got him in the cheek. Somehow, in their joy, the situation was magnified and they giggled about it (not that Scott giggled; he was manly) as they moved out of the way so the cake could be served.

"You know, you look kind of cute with frosting smeared all over you." Jean told him, absently adjusting his tie with affection.

Scott arched his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, I'm sure whip cream will do just as well when we're alone." He replied delicately.

Jean could only smirk knowingly and nod. The arm that went around his shoulders was more than happy; it promised him a wonderful wedding night. They had slept together since their engagement, but it would be their first time as a married couple. Her body was familiar to him and he knew what she liked and what made her beautiful body shudder underneath him. But it was still different.

Justine and Warren came over, both carrying two plates of cake. Justine set her plates down in front of Scott and Jean, and then sat down and was presented with a plate from her boyfriend. The two couples sat together silently for a moment, eating their cake, when Warren spoke up.

"So… when are you guys leaving for your honeymoon?" He asked casually, setting down his fork. Warren was, after all, an angel and angels just aren't as romantic when they don't have perfectly sculpted abs.

Scott had turned his attention elsewhere, striking up a conversation with Pastor Michael, so Jean answered for them. "In a few hours, after the bouquet toss and everything is wrapped up." She smiled happily. "We'll be in Rome late, but it'll be fine."

Justine gasped, a bright grin forming on her face. "You're going to Rome? How absolutely romantic! That's so perfect, Jean!" She gushed, pulling her hand from Warren's to clutch Jean's in feminine excitement. "Oh, that's going to be perfect! Are you excited?!"

Jean giggled, glad to have a kindred spirit in her midst. Scott was drawn to the ancient city for the food and the history. Jean also saw the benefits of those things, but she was entranced by the atmosphere of the city and enjoyed walking for long periods of time and seeing famous sights. Rome had been the perfect fit for both of them.

"Of course I am!" She beamed. "I have never been to Rome, but from what I've seen in pictures, it's absolutely beautiful. I'm just so ready to go!" She turned her attention to Justine's outfit. The younger woman was wearing a conservative light red dress with a darker sash around her shoulders and had a pair of ruby earrings in her ears. "You look beautiful, Justine!"

Justine smiled modestly. "Thanks. You look stunning. Really." She reached over to touch the other woman's earrings. "These are exquisite! Where did you get them?" She asked, almost drooling over the beautiful jewelry.

Jean beamed, glad someone had noticed. "Scott gave them to me this morning through Warren." She confided, her eyes moving back to her new husband who sat next to her. She reached over and took his hand. He momentarily looked to her and squeezed her hand, and they both turned back to their conversations.

"Awwww!" Justine cooed. "That is so sweet!"

"I'm sure Warren does things like that, doesn't he?" Jean asked, eyeing the blond businessman who was entertaining her mother.

Justine blushed. "Yeah, he does. He's really affectionate. He makes it so obvious that he likes me, and it's nice to constantly have that reminder." She sighed, watching her boyfriend out of the corner of her eye and gushing over him like a teenage girl. "And he's so… handsome!" She nearly squealed.

Jean laughed. Yes, Warren was one of her closest friends, but it was impossible not to notice. He was incredibly good-looking. It was almost inconceivable how perfect his genetic structure was. Of course, Jean thought he was no comparison for Scott, but no one would ever be so attractive in her eyes.

"Jean, will you dance with me?" A baritone voice requested and Jean looked up to see her father standing by her chair. John Grey smiled fondly at his daughter and she took his hand, turning to speak to Justine.

"I'll see you in a couple of minutes for the bouquet toss. I hope you catch it!" She called merrily, watching the Russian girl blush profusely as Warren turned his attention back to her, wondering what Jean had said.

"You look beautiful today, Jeannie." Her father told her, smiling at her. "I've never seen you so happy. Scott's a lucky man."

Jean smiled as she leaned her head against her father's chest. "Yeah. I am really happy. Thank you for always being really nice to him when Mom wasn't." She said genuinely.

"Well, I couldn't very well let the boy sink or swim, could I?" John chuckled. "He was always a good man. I have a father's intuition, after all. I can weed out the jerks and idiots from the good ones. That's why I was always nice when you brought that Worthington fellow around as a friend. Good guy. That Duncan idiot?" He merely smiled as Jean grimaced at the memories of her high school boyfriend.

"But thank you, Dad." She repeated after a long pause. "I've waited for so long for today, and you've made it a great day." Jean murmured, hugging her dad as they continued dancing.

John smiled, tears pricking at his eyes. "Well, my baby girl only gets married once." He tightened his hold on her as the music slowed to a stop.

"Hello everyone, I do believe it's time for the bride to throw her bouquet to see which of these lovely and beautiful ladies will get married next." The lead singer announced before he grinned disarmingly. "And if anyone wanted to know, I am currently single."

That garnered a laugh as all of the young ladies crammed into a small crowd around Jean. Ororo gracefully walked over and delivered Jean's bouquet of lilies and white roses to her before joining the crowd. Jean looked over her shoulder, grinning at all of the women. There were her older female students, women around Justine's age, and reaching to mature women near Jean's age. She teased them with holding the bouquet above her head and then tossed it, waiting to hear the excited shriek.

Jean grinned as she turned around, and searched to see the owner of the bouquet. She laughed out loud, clapping her hands, amused, when she saw who had caught it. Justine. Her fair facial skin was flushed a bright red and she held the bouquet haphazardly, refusing to look in the direction of Warren. Jean found Warren being surrounded by the other men in the room and slapped on the back. Warren was also blushing, but was attempting to keep his composure and not show how pleased he was. Embarrassed, but also pleased.

Jean walked over to Justine and hugged her happily, laughing. "Good for you, Justine!"

"Oh, he's going to be so pressured and weird about this!" She giggled, wiping away the tears from laughing from her eyes. "But I don't care! I've never caught a bouquet before!"

Later, Justine and Warren hugged and the blond angel broke off one of the white roses and stuck it gently into her bun. They kissed and were in each other's arms for the rest of the night.

**XXX**

Jean wrapped an arm around Scott as they patiently waited in line to board their plane, an hour after their reception had ended. Their bags had been packed the night before, and all arrangements had been made. All they had to do now was wait and roll their eyes at the annoying couple in front of them who were practically groping each other in public. Yes, Scott and Jean were very much sexually attracted to each other, but they did have their dignity.

"Jean, you do realize we wouldn't have to suffer through any of this if we had just taken the jet." Scott muttered, somewhat put out by not being able to fly his wife around in the team's jet, or getting to take Warren's private jet.

Jean giggled at him. "I know, silly. But it's about the experience." She told him matter-of-factly. She smiled sweetly at him.

"Yeah, yeah… experience smerience." Scott rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so pessimistic." Jean scolded him gently. "If you play your cards right…" She trailed off suggestively.

If Scott didn't have glasses, Jean could tell his eyes would have nearly been bugging out of their sockets. His jaw dropped and he stared at her for a few seconds. "Are you serious?" He was inordinately excited about the prospect of plane sex.

"I don't know." Jean shrugged, drawing patterns on his back through his shirt. "Am I?" She asked, looking up at him and giving him a sultry look.

"I love you." He told her seriously, causing her to laugh.

"I love you too, honey." She hugged him before giving her ticket to the attendant, Scott doing the same.

Scott and Jean walked down the terminal, onto the plane. They smiled politely at the flight attendants and found their seats. Scott took their bags and placed them in the overhead containers, flexing his muscles jokingly as Jean giggled and then pulled him down into the seat next to her. She turned his head towards her and kissed him firmly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"I knew it." He commented.

"Knew what?"

"That you couldn't resist me." He answered with a grin.

Jean laughed. "You are such a liar. I can resist you." She stuck her nose in the air before Scott started to kiss the cheek facing him and trailing down her jaw. He teased her and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. She relaxed against him and turned her face towards him, aching for that delicious contact.

He pulled away, smirking as she realized what she had done.

"You're such a cheater!" She announced.

"First I'm lying and then I'm cheating." Scott said lightly. "It's not my fault I'm absolutely adorable."

Jean giggled, snuggling up against him, moving the armrest out of the way, as best as she could. He put his arm around her shoulders, giving her more room to cuddle up against him. She yawned and drifted off after they were in the air and it was permissible to move around. For a while, Scott dug into the backpack he'd brought onto the plane and took out his personal iPod, content to listen to music and hold his sleeping wife's hand as he gazed upon her beautiful face. He smiled to himself and then closed his eyes.

Scott and Jean were both teachers at a private school. They also were like parents to most of the children, who had never truly been accepted by anyone. They were warriors for what was right and against some of the sickest people ever born into the human race. They had been through battle and come out victorious. They knew what it was like to live and die for a cause. They knew what it was like to sacrifice it all.

They could never escape their fates. They couldn't leave their jobs; the hurt faces of their students would haunt them for the rest of their days. They couldn't stop fighting; their consciences demanded they do so. They were constantly surrounded by their students, and they hardly left the school. Their life had always been about giving.

Maybe it was selfish, but it was nice for them to finally be able to take something. They took an entire day to focus entirely on themselves and their relationship. They were leaving the school for a week and spending it in Italy, with each other. Their relationship had always been hard to balance with their other responsibilities and priorities, but it was well worth it. Scott had ended up with the woman of his dreams, the one who stood behind him and stayed with him, no matter what anyone else said or did. Jean had married the man she loved, the one who had proved himself beyond question; he was the one for her.

Jean had never really been one to believe in soul mates, that there was only one person that was perfectly suited for everyone. But somehow, no matter what the world threw at them, they chose each other to return to. She loved him so deeply. It was strange, though. She had never thought she would have premarital sex because she valued herself, and she did. Perhaps it was a weak reason, but with the potentially deadly conditions they put themselves in almost daily, she didn't want to miss a moment of Scott. If they were going to go out and die the next day defending their kids and the school, then she wanted to experience all of him.

If he was really honest with himself, before Jean, Scott had never believed in marriage. He loved the idea of being completely committed to another person for the rest of his life, but he didn't believe someone would stick around for that long. His parents had died when he was a young child, and he had lived on the streets until Xavier found him when he was sixteen. Anyone he had lived with or known left after a short time. Years later, he still wondered when Charles would kick him out, or when Jean would tell him things wouldn't work out between them. It amazed him when he woke up in the morning and Jean was snuggled against him, wearing a plain black cami or tanktop and murmuring for five more minutes.

Scott drifted off somewhere in the midst of his thoughts and fell asleep. The stress of their wedding and the lack of sleep had been catching up with him, and he slept with his head on Jean's and slept for the entire plane ride.

A hand shook him awake and he jerked, pulling the iPod earphones from his ears. He blinked and looked up at the male flight attendant who smiled politely.

"We're almost to Rome, sir." He explained, and then moved on to the front of the plane.

Scott yawned and nudged Jean slightly. "Jean, wake up, we're almost there."

Jean sat up immediately, her eyes sparkling. "Really?"

He grinned. "Yeah!" He stretched as much as he could in his seat and yawned. "At least now I'm fully awake. Warren was merciless in waking me up."

Jean kissed the side of his mouth. "Well, that's good. You'll need all of your energy."

Scott smirked. "I would extend the same warning."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "Really? Are you going to rock my world?" She mocked him, a smile on her face to show she was joking.

"Exactly." He responded as they landed. It was several more minutes before they were allowed to leave their seats, but when passengers were beginning to leave the plane, Scott stood up and grabbed Jean's carry-on bag and handing it to her, and shouldering his backpack.

Someone stopped walking and allowed them to step out of their row. Slowly, they made their ways through the terminal and into the Italian airport. Scott looked around, confused, and Jean snickered and took his hand, leading him in the right direction. While she had been studying to become a doctor, she had taken Italian as an elective and had become quite fluent. So all of the signs and announcements made complete sense to her, while they baffled Scott.

With Jean's mastery of the language and a few directions from a helpful English-speaking Italian lady, they found their bags and hotel (too excited and exhausted from their trip to even take in the sights) and retired to their room.

Scott slid the hotel card into the door and pulled down on the handle, taking both his and Jean's bags in and stuffing them into the closet as Jean waited outside. He let the door hang half-open and he scooped her up into his arms. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him firmly. Scott skillfully carried her into the room and shut the door with his foot.

He didn't take the time to admire the honeymoon suite before Scott placed Jean on her feet and kissed her deeply. His hands gently held her neck as her arms went around his waist.

"Are you tired?" Scott asked quietly as he pulled away momentarily, looking deeply into her eyes, once again hating his glasses for impeding his sight. He knew he was lucky, though. He could see her, and he knew she was beautiful. He didn't need to see her to know that. He kissed her lips gently.

"No." Jean replied breathlessly. She reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt with deft fingers. She had unbuttoned his shirt many times before, but she did so reverently. She could feel his muscles relaxing underneath her touch as she kissed his neck and the top of chest as it was revealed.

Scott slowly slid his shirt from his arms and discarded the white tank he wore underneath. He kicked off his shoes as Jean stepped out of her flip-flops, his eyes never leaving her. She blushed slightly underneath his scrutiny.

"Good." He murmured, taking her hand and leading her to bed. "I love you, Jean, more than I could ever put into words."

Jean's eyes were bright, even in the dim lighting of the room, and she nodded wordlessly, pulling him down on top of her.

There was something different about their lovemaking that night. Maybe it was the influx of love that poured over in their hearts, or the relief that they were finally one in front of God and the law, and while their joining had never been about merely pleasure, their union completely transcended physical pleasure; it joined their hearts and minds. They were one.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men.**

Scott faded in and out of sleep, his breathing deep and relaxed. The last of his adrenaline had worn off several hours ago, and he was content to lie there with Jean in his arms, her head on his bare chest. She mumbled in her sleep, her breath caressing his skin. His eyes closed, he seemed to fall even deeper into the fog of dreams. The warmth of the comforter covering his lower half and the beautiful woman curled up next to him lulled him deeper into sleep, and he let out a sigh, his left hand gently running up and down Jean's back.

Scott was suddenly ripped from his warm half-sleep as Jean began to cry out softly, tears spilling out from underneath her tightly squeezed eyelids. Her face contorted in pain and he sat up, cradling her in his arms. He shook her slightly, trying to coax her from her nightmare. He was somewhat of an expert when it came to waking Jean up from bad dreams; he had been doing it regularly for the past several months. He worried for her.

"Jean, Jean!" He gave her another little shake. "Wake up, it's just a bad dream! I'm right here, Jean. Wake up!"

She suddenly jerked awake, and her vulnerable mind lashed out at him, throwing him across the room. His back hit the wall and he grunted as he landed on his face, the force of his contact with the wall driving him into the floor. He laid there for a short moment until he heard Jean's voice.

"Oh my God, Scott, are you okay?" She rushed over to his side, her steps somewhat unsteady. She ran a hand over his head to check for any injuries. "I'm so sorry… I just…" She gathered him up in her arms, kissing his face as the grief from what she had seen in her dreams overcame her. "I was so worried, I saw you in Stryker's base and…" She trailed off.

Scott eased himself from her arms and moved himself onto his knees, and as he stood up, he helped her to her feet. He gave her a carefree smile. "Don't worry about it, Jean. I'm not hurt." His smile turned into a look of worry. "What did you see?" He asked, somewhat tentatively. He didn't like thinking about what happened to him during his time at Stryker's base. He hadn't even talked about it with Jean, and she hadn't pushed him. They talked about almost everything, but there were some things they couldn't talk about at all, and they each respected the other's right to silence, knowing that when the time to talk came, the incident would be discussed.

"You… you were being surrounded by four other guys and they were just hitting you with these steel bars." Jean lowered herself onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. "And then someone was just kicking you in the face as you were restrained… you were all bruised and bloody and…" Her bottom lip quivered as she tried not to cry.

Scott sat down beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and pressing his lips to her. "I'm sorry you had to see that." He murmured.

"What?" Jean looked up to meet his eyes. "That… those were your memories?" Her eyes softened and filled with tears. "Oh my God, Scott…" She whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Oh my… every time I see you without your shirt off… I saw… but I never thought… I just thought they were from other missions, I had no idea." She looked down at his chest to examine the scars from his stint in Stryker's hold. Her fingers ghosted over them as she memorized them, her heart shattering as she understood that her husband had been tortured, controlled and manipulated for the several days he had been gone.

"That was the point." He spoke softly. "I didn't want you to know. You've been under a lot of stress lately, and I didn't want to add to it." He leaned back on his hands and allowed her a good look. "I didn't want to talk about it; I only wanted to forget everything that had gone on." He trembled as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly.

Scott Summers was what many people would call a strong man. His priorities were usually in order and he worked hard at his job. He was also very physically capable, due to weight-lifting everyday, an hour's run, and a weekly examination from a doctor to make sure he was in perfect condition to be fighting in the field. He was also strong enough emotionally to take care of dozens of broken-hearted children who needed someone to take care of them, to love them and to protect them. He was the father, the big brother, and sometimes that eccentric uncle everyone loves but no one really understands. But he wasn't strong all the way through. He needed someone to take care of him, sometimes. He wasn't ashamed to say Jean was the one who took care of him.

He leaned into her warm, inviting embrace and let out a sigh. Without her having to ask, he began to speak. "When I first woke up in Stryker's compound, they interrogated me. They wanted to know why I was with Professor Xavier, and who I was, if I was a mutant or not. I didn't tell them anything for a while…" He trailed off, grimacing at the thought of his weakness. "But I ended up telling them. They had tried several methods of persuasion, and my body just couldn't take it. I finally answered their questions and they locked me in a cell."

Jean ran her hand up and down his back, a gesture that soothed him. He stared at the floor, lost in his memories. "A few times, guards would come in and taunt me, you know, call me names, beat me up, the usual things they do, but they used some drugs and a burn on my neck to keep me docile and absolutely controlled. My mind protested against my actions and the fact my will and choices were taken away from me, but I was only a bystander."

Jean froze when he mentioned a burn on the back of his neck and she got onto her knees and crawled behind him. She straightened up and moved his hair. She traced the burn. "Is it a chemical burn?" She asked quietly.

"I suppose so. I don't know what was in the drug that they influenced me with." Scott answered mechanically. He almost flinched from her touch as she hugged him from behind. "Don't."

"Why not?" Jean asked, pulling away and moving so she could look him in the eyes. She stood up. "Why don't you want me to help you?" She questioned somewhat harshly. She couldn't believe he was doing the whole testosterone thing where he closed himself off from her just because it was hard for him to be vulnerable. She thought he would have learned by now in this stage of their relationship, especially now that they were married, that it was okay to talk about his feelings. She wanted nothing more than to hear everything that was on his mind.

"I just don't!" He snapped in return. "I went through hell there, and I think I'm entitled to be private if I want to about something like this! I try to be the perfect fiancé and now the perfect husband, and I'm sorry, Jean, but I can't be perfect all of the time! I just need to screw up a little bit now and again, so sorry that I'm not one-hundred-percent perfect all of the time like you!"

Tears sprang into Jean's eyes and she fought to sustain her composure. However, it was early in the morning and she was always very sensitive to what Scott said. She knew he didn't mean it, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. She wiped them away, forcing herself not to sob.

Scott's angry posture relaxed and his features turned contrite. He reached over to her and placed his hands on her hips, bowing his head in remorse. "I'm so sorry, Jean. That was completely out of line. I'm sorry. I love you. I do." He looked up at her as she pulled away.

"You know, you should be." She responded angrily. "I'm just trying to help, and it bothers me so much that you won't let me. I couldn't know how hard it was for you, but it always helps to talk about it. I can't stand myself knowing that you won't let me in, and I keep thinking that's because you don't think I'm good enough!"

Scott shook his head. "No." He stated strongly. "No. That is never the reason, Jean. You are amazing, and far more than I could ever hope to deserve. I love you so much. I just… it's hard for me to talk about it. The memories that assault me at the oddest times are frightening and they reduce me to nothing more than a sobbing child, and it's just another reminder that I can't protect those kids all of the time." He raked his fingers through his messy hair. "It… scares me."

Jean relaxed as she closed her eyes and Scott used his thumbs to wipe her tears away and kissed her. She took a few small steps to press up her body against his and lean her head against his chest. "I'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner. At least you're okay now. I can protect you." She mumbled against his bare chest, lazily tracing patterns on his back.

Scott smiled in spite of himself. "Yeah. You can." He was man enough to admit that he was comforted by the presence of his wife, who was a competent doctor and a talented telepath and telekinetic. She had proven to him several times that she was willing to kill to protect his life, and he trusted her. She was the only one he would choose to have beside him in a tight spot. Of course, he would worry about her, but he trusted her abilities.

"Come to bed, Scott. It's late and we have sight-seeing to do tomorrow." She yawned and took his hand. She walked over to her side and snuggled into his arms as he laid onto his back to give her his chest as a convenient pillow. "I love you." She reminded him.

"I love you too."

**XXX**

The newlyweds were exhausted after a day of sight-seeing. They went down to the ruins and saw where Julius Caesar was buried, and marveled at the beauty of the Senate, where Scott dramatically pretended to die, spouting off Caesar's last lines, clutching his heart. They ran off giggling towards the Colosseum and stood, awestruck, at the grandeur of the building and at what atrocities must have occurred on that ground. Even seeing only a few places in one day had them exhausted as they sat outside a small café.

"That was delicious." Jean leaned back in her chair, rubbing her stomach.

"Don't do that." Scott commented quietly as he stared off into the distance.

"Why?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at such a strange statement.

"Because whatever you're doing, I'm seeing you doing it naked." He replied calmly, though a naughty smirk pulled at his lips.

Jean grinned. "So if I…" She sat up and leaned forward, bringing her shoulders inward to emphasize her breasts. "You're…"

"Yeah." Scott stared openly. "Great view." He complimented, the smirk now prominently on his features.

The new Mrs. Summers giggled, but then used her arms to shield her breasts from him. Scott looked disappointed and then reached over to take her hands. "Don't be shyyyy." He coaxed sweetly. Suddenly, nature called, and he reluctantly pulled away. "I'll be back, Jean." He walked away backwards, smiling at her the entire time. "I love you!" He reminded her as he disappeared into the café to find a restroom.

Wiping his drying hands on the back of his jeans, he walked back towards the door of the café to rejoin Jean at their outdoor table. He paused to peer through the window surreptitiously at the scene occurring outside.

Jean had stayed at their table, letting her food digest as she enjoyed the beautiful city. Several men around twenty-seven years of age had joined her, and by the looks of it, the words they were speaking were not the most flattering. He saw the disgusting smirks on their faces, and it was nothing like how he looked at her. When he smirked, there was love and affection in his gaze, along with lust. He would never press his unseemly jokes on her unless he could tell she was in the mood for joking. These men, however, were sexually harassing her. Scott nearly saw red, metaphorically speaking, when he saw one guy reach for her tanktop strap and tugged on it suggestively. Jean Summers was a strong woman, but Scott knew one of them had to have said something to steal her strength.

Scott stormed out of the café and strode immediately to one of the men. Seizing the man's arm, he pulled it behind him and pushed it upwards, jerking it painfully. Scott leaned into him. "Step away from my wife, and I won't break your arm. Okay, punk?"

"Hey, why don't you leave us alone, crazy American?" One of Scott's victim's friends exclaimed. "We were just entertaining the lady." He smirked at Jean.

"Don't even look at her." Scott forced himself to remain calm and steady, though all he could imagine doing was ripping this man's head off. He released the man whose arm he had in his vice-like grip and shoved him away. "Leave her alone."

A smaller man snickered as he came up to Scott. Before Scott could react in his shock and fear, the other man had snatched his glasses from his face. Scott yelled out as red blasts shot from his eyes, taking off the roof of a nearby building before he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Give me my glasses back." Scott demanded, his voice slightly shaky.

"What the… you mutie scum. Get the hell out of Italy." One of the men's voices sneered at him. "Come on, girl, I'll take care of you."

"Why don't you keep moving on and make someone else's life hell? I don't have time to deal with you, otherwise I would, and you would not appreciate it." There was something in Jean's voice that obviously told the men she meant business, because Scott heard their distinctive footsteps fading away.

Jean's gentle, cool hands touched his face and replaced his glasses. Scott opened his eyes and sighed heavily. He covered her hands with his and they stood together silently for a long moment, both glad that the building Scott had nearly destroyed had been empty. Jean nearly jumped as the general public recovered from their shock and came out of the surrounding buildings to see what had happened.

"We should go back to the hotel." Scott murmured.

"Please take me back." Jean whispered, her eyes full of tears.

Scott threw down the amount for their meal and, arms around each other, they walked away from the scene of the incident, and back to the safety of their hotel.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I only wish I owned X-Men.**

Jean giggled as Scott opened her door for her and helped her up. He pulled her close, stepping to the side and pressing her against the backdoor of the car. His hands drew their hips together and then kissed her. His lips peppered kisses down her jaw and onto her neck. She giggled again as his lips attacked her collarbone, and then pushed him away gently.

"Scott…" She had to force herself not to giggle again. She had been laughing a lot this past week. It was such a relief to be away, and had given her precious time to strengthen her mental state and shields. Being within a close vicinity of so many people caused her mind to ache, but it was soon soothed.

"I don't care about anyone right now. All I want is to kiss you." He growled. Neither of them had wanted to leave. Scott didn't want to have to share his new wife with anyone, and within the past few minutes had come upon a new hatred of the amount of time they devoted to the school. It would not leave much time for them. "God, do I want to kiss you."

Jean smiled and kissed the side of his mouth. "I know. I do too. But everyone knows we're back and they're…" The front door of the mansion burst open and several young kids burst out, followed shortly by Ororo Munroe and Professor Charles Xavier.

"Mr. Summers, Mrs. Summers! You're back!" The children hollered, and a few of the older teenagers poked their heads out. "What was Rome like? Was it pretty?"

"Georgia, Lauren, get the children back inside. Mr. and Mrs. Summers will tell you all about their journeys in Italy during dinner." The Professor gently reproved them, and they obediently walked back inside the mansion, though they still giggled, and began an impromptu game of tag throughout the entire school.

Bobby, Alyssa, Kitty and a few of the older teenagers, assuming they were not considered children, hung behind, and it took one pointed look from Ororo to send them packing. Bobby closed the door behind him, and Kitty phased through the wood, off to finish the essays they had been assigned for their weekend homework.

"How was Rome?" Xavier asked with a warm, welcoming smile.

"Great." Jean answered as the door opened once more to reveal Warren. "Hey Warren!"

"Hey Jean, hey Scott." He greeted them both, hugging Jean. "Let me take the car in. I promise I won't wreck it." He grinned as Scott expertly threw him the keys. He got into the car and drove to the garage after he helped Scott unload the four suitcases in the trunk.

Scott reached to pick up the suitcases when Jean waved him off, focusing. She inhaled deeply, and then stretched her mind's threads out. She controlled them and wrapped them around the suitcases. She strengthened them and with another relaxing breath, she lifted up the mental threads she used as a visual to help herself with her telekinesis, and with them, the suitcases. She smiled proudly, and then walked towards the front door.

"Actually, Jean," Ororo smiled mischievously. "We have a surprise."

"What?" Scott asked somewhat sharply. "What do you have planned, Ororo? If this is anything like my twentieth, then no amount of lightning can keep me from retribution." He glared, though the African woman could only grin. This worried him. Yes, this worried him deeply. He was officially frightened.

Charles chuckled, amused. "Scott, you don't think I would allow such a travesty again? I wouldn't be the last to say that your hair dyed shockingly yellow was funny, but I do think that would change your image around your students."

Scott sulked, and Jean took over the talking duties. She took a mental note: never allow Scott to speak. Ever. "What is this surprise, Professor?"

Xavier turned to Ororo and allowed her to lead. Ororo led them down the concrete paths. The grounds of the school were expansive, covering ten acres in total. Beautiful shrubbery and tall trees bordered the entire property, covering the brick walls that were watched all hours by the state of the art security system created by none other than Scott Summers himself. Most of the estate was left untouched, for the majority of the student population liked to stay close to their new home and play basketball or soccer in the specified areas. Except for some more excitable children, most never explored all of the grounds. Jean and Scott and their generation had done so, but there were more kids now, and more socializing to be done.

Jean and Scott wondered about where Ororo and the Professor were taking them, but they were quickly entertained by questions about their honeymoon and experience in Rome. They regaled several stories of Scott stumbling over the language barriers and Jean nearly falling into the canals when they spent a day in Venice. The only story not spoken of was their incident with Scott's blasts. Now was not the time for dark thoughts about the unfairness in the world. That could come later.

"Oh, Professor, Ororo…" Jean breathed, her arms going around Scott's waist.

He put an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "Wow…" A small smile lingered on his lips.

A small house had been built in one of the far corners of the property. It was painted a modest blue with a small porch. There was room between the house and the white picket fence, complete with gate and arbor, for a blooming garden that had been started mysteriously over the past week. Vines were already weaving their way through the latticework. A hammock hung on two low trees a few yards away from the house, and two oak rocking chairs were perched on the porch. Even a welcome mat was already in place.

Jean walked forward, as if in a daze, the suitcases following behind her, and opened the small gate. She walked through, bending to sniff a few of the blooming flowers in her very own garden. She continued along the smooth path and then stepped up onto the porch. She turned the doorknob and walked into the house. Her house. The house that belonged to her and Scott.

Each room was tastefully decorated, much like their rooms in the mansion, and it was filled with the furniture and a few pieces that were new, like the leather couch, loveseat and armchair, upon which she dropped their suitcases, in the living room, not to mention the entertainment center. Her fingers trailed over almost everything in the house. She turned to look at Scott who was walking down the carpeted stairs from the second floor.

"Four bedrooms, Jean." He reported softly, his arms wrapping around her waist. "This is perfect."

"I know." She hugged him tightly. "This is so…"

"What do you think?" Ororo asked as she followed the couple into the house, a broad smile on her face, as she was trailed by the Professor in his wheelchair.

"I love it!" Jean nearly squealed, running over to Ororo to hug her tightly. The two women quickly ran off to explore the house, talking in high, excited voices.

Scott laughed, accepting a handshake and a hug from the Professor. "This place is beyond words, Professor." He stated, his voice distant and awed. "You already provided the place for our wedding. You didn't have to do this." He put his hands in his jacket pockets.

"I know." The Professor smiled, his eyes twinkling. "But you and Jean deserve this so much." His voice turned slightly darker as he let out a small sigh, meeting the eyes of the man he considered his son. "You both have worked tirelessly for the past decade for the school. I don't remember the last time either of you took a vacation, and I understand the stresses that are piled on you. Now that you are married, you deserve a place to be alone with each other, away from… any student earshot."

Scott had the decency to blush. "Thank you, Professor." He murmured gratefully. "I mean that. This has allayed so many of my fears, and it will be nice to be away from the kids. I love them to death, but we really do need to be alone." He smirked slightly, but his smirk dissolved into a sweet smile when Jean returned. "Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" She beamed at the Professor and leaned down to hug him tightly. "Thank you so much, Professor. You have no idea how much this means to us!"

Charles hugged her back. "You're welcome, Jean." He looked down at his watch. "I'm afraid that I must go now. I have a few arrangements to take care of before I leave for Washington in several days." He gave the couple a smile, and turned around, leaving them in their new home.

Ororo grinned, hugging them both tightly. "Enjoy your new home. Oh, here." She walked outside for a moment and then placed a pile of envelopes on the small kitchen table. "Your first mail." She said fondly before leaving the house and closing the door behind her.

"Sex in every room of the house?" Scott asked, hardly daring to hope, though hope shined through his dark red sunglasses.

Jean laughed, kissing him. "Tonight, Scott, tonight." She promised with a sexy wink. "I think I saw a small work out room next to the master bedroom. I want to read our mail." She was inordinately excited, but she had never owned her own house, nor been married. She was allowed to be a little content with her present circumstances.

At mention of a possible work out, Scott was upstairs in a moment. He loved Italian food, but had been aching to get some real exercising done after all of that heavy food. Jean smiled as she sat down at the small kitchen table. Her mind was consumed by fantasies of small children bounding down the stairs, yelling for breakfast. Tears nearly overflowed from her eyes as her mind conjured up the image of Scott carrying a toddler in his arms. He would be an amazing dad. He was just that kind of person. He was gentle and quiet, and was a natural caretaker. He managed to care for everyone flawlessly. He was the perfect father, but he was simply without a child. As for her? She wanted nothing more to be the mother of his children.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand and examined the handwriting. It was unusual for her to receive a personal letter, but she didn't question it. She opened the envelope and her eyes fell on the words. They were written in a hateful black ink, and her mind was in a whirl as she fought to process what was on that piece of paper.

The letter read:

_Dear Dr. Jean Grey-Summers,_

_My name is Charity Daryn, and I live in New York City. I have been following your brilliant work for the last several years now, and I heard you were recently married to a man named Scott Summers, who never takes off sunglasses. A cute choice in fashion? Maybe, but rumor has it that he's a mutant._

_He's mutie shit, Dr. Grey-Summers. You deserve so much better than his sorry ass. How could you be so fucking stupid as to marry a sub-human. He's absolute shit. You, by marrying him, must also be shit. Have you ever seen the things that mutants do? He will end up killing you. And if you were to have kids, God FORBID, they will be half-breeds. Do you want to subject an innocent to such evilness? How you could ever be sexually attracted to a Neanderthal?_

_Get a life, Doctor, and divorce him, or the wrath of the human community will be on you, too._

_-Charity Daryn_

Jean's eyes were wide with shock at the hateful words on the piece of paper. She nearly ripped apart the next envelope to get to the next letter.

_Mutie scum. Mutie shit. You are worthless and disgusting. Your husband is second to humans. If you stay married to him, we'll kill him and we'll kill you too. You and the rest of his kind will never be as good as us humans. We will kill you. Don't you worry about that._

The rest of the letters were of the same ilk, and her arms and legs were absolutely numb, even as she stood up to recycle the envelopes in the recycle bin. She sat back down and propped her head up on her hands. She stared down at one particularly hateful letter and, with a few deep breaths, the tears suddenly began to slide down her face. The reality of what people had actually written and sent to her set in and sobs ripped from her throat. She covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook violently from her pain.

She loved Scott. She loved him with all that she was, and simply because she was married to him, and somehow, the news had gotten out, they would send hate mail? She had concealed her powers. Not because she was ashamed, but because no one would listen to her if they knew, but… she simply couldn't articulate any feelings. All that ripped through her was acute pain.

"Jean?" Scott asked, having heard her from upstairs. "What's wrong?"

"The… the… they're so MEAN!" She sputtered like an overly emotional teenage girl, and Scott ran to her side. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, looking over her head that was tucked underneath his chin, to read a few of the letters that he could see. As she cried into his chest, he burned with anger.

"Shhhh…" He murmured lightly into her ear. "It's going to be okay, Jean. I promise."

"No, it's not!" She reacted, clinging to him. "How… how…. Why would they do that? Why would they hate you so much when I can only love you?" With his presence, she was slightly calmed and her sobs stopped, but her tears continued to flow. She blocked the world out by burying her face into his shoulder. "I love you, Scott."

"I love you, too." He whispered. "Come on, let's get away from these letters and we can burn them." He glared at the offending pieces of paper, as if his hatred of them for making his wife cry was enough to destroy them forever.

"Oh… okay." She sniffled pitifully. "I'm sorry." She found a tissue in a nearby Kleenex box and blew her nose and threw it away. "It's just… I don't understand how they could talk about you like that when they don't even know you! I married you because I love you, because you're interesting and funny and smart and sweet. And you have a killer motorcycle. Not to mention that you take care of me and protect me." She took his hand and sighed. "I just don't get it. Just because we're mutants…"

"It doesn't give them the right to hate us. And you're right. They don't know me and they don't know you. They are afraid and emotional, which leads them to anger. They are afraid of us, and since they have never met us, they have no right to judge us. Their opinions should mean nothing to you."

"How can you be so calm?" She asked, slightly annoyed at his composure. "I'm crying my eyes out, and you're comforting me when it was you they were slandering!"

Scott smiled gently. "I'm angry at them, yeah. But only because they made you cry. That kills me more than any word could ever." He gave her hand a squeeze. "Come on. I think you need a hot bath and time to think."

"Yeah." She murmured as he led her up into the master bathroom. "I meant what I said about sex in every room, don't worry." She kissed him. "I just need some time alone."

"Okay, Jean. I love you. Forget about what they said." He turned to leave.

"Wait, Scott?" She asked timidly.

"Yeah?" He turned back around.

"Um… this is really random, but before I read the letters… all I could think about was us having kids, and them growing up in this house." She sighed dreamily. "I want to have kids." She snapped out of her daze. "I mean, not right now. But… soon."

Scott gave her a crooked smile. "You are very strange, Jean." He bent down to press another kiss to her lips. "We'll talk about it later."

His wife nodded and closed the bathroom door.

The rage Scott had been covering up boiled to the surface and he quickly walked to the small workout room. It was simple, with a treadmill, a large set of free weights, and a punching bag. Scott took his shoes off and dropped his shirt to the floor. He settled into a fighting stance and swung his leg at the bag, relishing the contact. He punched the bag several times, delivering a few staggering blows that nearly pulled it from its chain with his feet. He forced himself to not yell out, as it would worry Jean, though it was all he wanted to do.

He was terribly insecure about being a mutant. His mutation had barred him from seeing anything at all for years, until the Professor and Hank McCoy came up with his glasses. He had lived on the street because no one wanted him. He apparently had brain damage. No one had ever wanted him because of something completely out of his control. These hateful letters threw his insecurities out of proportion. Would Jean leave him because she could never look into his eyes? What if he someday hurt their kids, accidentally? What if he destroyed their house? All of these frightening questions ran through his mind and his fear, anger and pain was channeled out of his body by blows delivered to the punching bag.

Twenty minutes passed, and finally, he was exhausted. He found a small white towel and wiped his face and bare chest. He put his shirt back on and sat on the floor in a meditative position until his heart rate was down to a normal level. He then stood up and knocked gently on the bathroom door.

"Come in, Scott." Jean called out.

Scott opened the door and stepped inside. There, in the claw-foot bathtub, curled up in a ball was his wife. Her tears had reemerged, and it was obvious to him that she had been crying the entire time he had been gone. Her neck was propped up by the curved edges of the tub, and she refused to look at him.

"Jean…" He knelt down by the tub, running his hand over her hair in an attempt to comfort her. "Why are you really so distraught by this?" He asked gently, hoping not to frighten her.

"I…" She sniffed, leaning into his touch. "I just… I want to be a mutant because I love what I do, but I don't want people to hate me or disregard my work because I am a mutant or because you are a mutant. It's not that you're in the way, because you come before everything, but…"

"You still want them to appreciate your intelligence because you worked hard?" He supplied.

"Yeah." She sat up in the tub and pulled out the plug, the water having obviously become cold. She wrapped herself in an off-white, fluffy towel and tied it above her breasts.

Scott immediately went to her and embraced her. "I'm sorry they hate us, Jean. I'm sorry the world has to be like this." He mumbled into her hair.

"And it's like," She continued. "I know it will never change. It won't change in our lifetime. I have to find a way to overcome this, but it still hurts to know that people aren't intelligent enough to look beyond their fear to see that I'm brilliant!" She relaxed under his touch nonetheless.

"I think you're brilliant no matter what anyone says." Scott offered.

Jean giggled and snuggled into his embrace. "I know. That's why I love you." She told him matter-of-factly.

"Why? Because I tell you what you want to hear?" He asked, amused as he looked down at her.

She looked up and kissed him. "Yeah, pretty much."

Scott smirked at her arrogantly. "I should punish you for that." He gathered her up in his arms and carried her out of the bathroom. He dumped her onto the bed and straddled her, using his elbows to keep the majority of his weight off of her.

As Scott easily undid the small knot on her towel, she grinned and kissed him.

The world would never change. People would always fear them, and judge her for marrying an obvious mutant. She would be mocked and despised for her choice in husband, and when she told the world she was a mutant, she personally would be mocked. That would always hurt her, but the presence of a loving husband who cared very much for her, saw the vastness of her intelligence, and delighted in her beauty made it easier to bear.


	15. Chapter 15

**This is somewhat of a filler chapter, but I think it holds some important points, since we're catching up with some of our smaller characters: Warren, Justine, Bobby and… John?**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, pretty much not mine. I wish, though.**

Scott rubbed his temples as he stared down at the stack of papers that was slowly becoming smaller and smaller as the long minutes dragged on in his office. The only comfort in the entire situation was that the pile was decreasing, and Jean was waiting for him in their new home. His heart warmed at the very thought of his wife and their house. They had been back for two weeks, and though they had had several disagreements, things seemed to be coming along very well. There were times, odd moments throughout his day, that he would find himself asking why he had been so lucky. Yes, his past was painful, and he seemed rather doomed to follow a dangerous line of work, and he could easily be killed any moment he stepped off of the school's property, but at the same time, he had a woman who loved him with all that she was, a father figure to look up to, a best friend to stand at his back in battle and when they needed to hide from their significant others for doing something stupid, and an entire school full of children to love. His life was not too bad at all.

With that thought, Scott found himself more able to turn back to his work with an air of optimism. He quickly scribbled on a Post-It note, and discovered his pen was out of ink. Sighing in frustration, he tossed his pen into the garbage can and fished about in his desk for a new one. He let out a sound of relief as he found a similar pen and turned back to the worksheet he had assigned for homework the day before, quickly reshuffling his papers so the answer key was sitting on the top.

A knock resounded on his door and the door opened to reveal one of his eldest students, Bobby Drake. Having always been fond of the young man, Scott smiled and waved Bobby in. "Come in." He invited. "Take a seat, and give me two seconds." He effortlessly flew through grading the worksheet in front of him, and then set aside everything. "What can I do for you, Mr. Drake?"

Bobby fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable. "Um… this is something kind of personal, I guess…"

"What's wrong?" Scott asked, leaning forward in interest. Bobby wasn't the type to run to a teacher if he had an emotional problem. He was of the more reserved variety when it came to emotions, and the fact Bobby felt he needed to come to him was intriguing.

"Well…" Bobby searched for words. "I guess I need some advice. I think, anyway. It's more of an answer." He explained, his gaze falling to the floor in embarrassment. "… When did you… know you loved your wife?" He asked quickly.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "What prompts such a question?"

"I don't know." Bobby shrugged. "I just wanted to know."

Knowing there was more to the story than that, Scott settled back into his chair. "Well… it took a long time to be completely sure. I adored her, of course, and thought she was great, but love? It kind of just came down to a question of whether she would be there when the rest of the world left. If I was out in the cold, would she be out there with me? Was I, too, willing to follow her to all ends? Yes, the emotion was there and I've always thought she was beautiful, but love is always more than that." He explained quietly, his voice controlled, though thoughtful, and if he was honest with himself, his voice was slightly dreamy as well.

Bobby sighed. "Yeah. That's what I thought you'd say."

"You sound disappointed." Scott observed.

"Well, yeah." Bobby raked his fingers through his hair. "I think I'm in love with Rogue."

Scott raised both of his eyebrows. "And this is bad… why?" He laughed gently. "I don't see what the problem is. If you love her…"

"If I love her, then she'll just pull away. Again. Every time I try to do something, she doesn't trust me. I don't want to stop trying, but…" Bobby Drake had always looked up to Mr. Summers, and at one point had nearly hero-worshipped him. He wasn't one for begging for help, but now, he needed someone to guide him.

"Bobby, I think you need to understand something." Scott said with a straight face. "Women are crazy. Honestly. They are completely insane. What they do will never make sense to us. With that in mind, she should be easier to understand."

Bobby chuckled. "I guess." He said uncertainly. "But what if…"

"What if she doesn't love you back?" Scott asked as he stood up, preparing to leave for the day. "You have to take that chance. It sucks, but if she does… it's totally worth it. Good luck, Mr. Drake, I'll see you tomorrow in class." He gave the young man a fatherly squeeze on the shoulder and then left the mansion, walking down the peaceful paths to his house.

**XXX**

Warren reclined on an armchair in the front sitting room of the mansion, his wings comfortably tucked behind him. He closed his eyes as a warm weight settled on his lap and then curled up against his chest, seeking comfort. He wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and couldn't help his smile as she kissed his lips. They sat in silence for a long while, each contemplating many things.

Warren's mind was on Justine, the beautiful woman in his arms. He was so confused by her. Lately, their relationship had been touch and go. One moment, they were so desperately in love and were hiding in supply closets and kissing, and the next, she was running away from him, crying, and he didn't know what he was doing wrong. He wanted to be her support, not what made her cry. He loved her, for pity's sake, though he hadn't told her yet. He hadn't gotten the impression that it was the right time. He couldn't just outright say it. It needed to be in a situation where it meant something.

Justine, on the other hand, was thinking about just how much she needed Warren. Yes, she was emotional and irrational. General stresses of life had been getting to her, and she had no way of venting. Nothing seemed to make her feel better anymore. She was constantly worrying about Warren and his wellbeing, and about all of the students, and it was just so wonderful that she was assigned to inventory that month. She wanted to scream and rip someone's head off. At that thought, she sighed, frustrated, and snuggled even closer to Warren.

"What's wrong, Justine?" He asked her softly, tentative to provoke her.

Justine closed her eyes. "Everything."

"Well, that's not very descriptive, hon." He rubbed her back gently. As she shifted in his grasp, her t-shirt rode up slightly, exposing creamy skin and his fingers skirted down to her bare skin. His hands warmed her and seemed to melt some of her stress away.

"I'm so worried about everything. I worry that you're okay, I worry about the kids and if they're fairing okay, and I have to do inventory this month! I just hate that my life… it revolves around work! I haven't gone out to a club in weeks, and we haven't had time to go out on a date." She reached for his hand and intertwined their fingers.

Warren nodded, though he knew her eyes were closed, understanding her feelings. He had spoken to Xavier about a job, since he had resigned from his position in his father's company several days after he left the Cure clinic with bravado, and now, his time was monopolized by traveling and going to various social parties, attempting to get more funding for the school. His name and charming personality had garnered some financial support and social ties, promising a good future if Xavier's extensive fortune were somehow to dwindle to nothing. He had been at the Institute for, possibly, ten days out of the last thirty.

"We should plan something for every time we're together." He suggested. "Like, the day after I get home, we go to breakfast or for coffee or something."

"That's great, Warren, but just listen to me!" Justine snapped, more harshly than she intended. "I don't want a solution, I just want you to hear how crappy everything's going for me!"

He stiffened, but tried to understand her words without defensive emotions. All she wanted him to do was listen. She didn't want him to fix her problems. If there was one thing he did know about women was they liked talking about feelings, and thought talking was a really important thing, which it was. In conclusion, all of the knowledge he had meant that, in Justine's mind, talking about it was fixing the problem, in a way. Her problem was her stress and high-strung emotions; it wasn't necessarily the circumstances. He nodded.

"Okay, tell me about it." He bent slightly to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Justine relaxed against his body, her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. "I miss you." She told him factually. "I miss that you're not here to give me back rubs or tell me I'm pretty or eat my cookies. I don't have anyone to make goodies for when you're not here." She tilted her head to look into his beautiful eyes. On the inside of her heart, she swooned. His handsomeness just didn't wear off.

"What? No one else will eat your food?" Warren asked, scandalized as a smirk curved at his lips.

"No." Justine shrugged. "I just don't feel like making extra stuff for people who won't kiss me or hug me or anything else."

Warren glowed and gathered her up into his arms and brought her closer. He smiled down at her, beholding her beauty for a long moment. Her head and upper body was nestled between him and one of the armrests and she was blushing underneath his scrutiny. His forearm supporting her, he leaned down to slowly and thoroughly kiss her.

"I love you, Justine." He murmured quietly, unable to bring himself to break the soft mood.

Justine's eyes were wide at his declaration, but she smiled, pleased. She threw her arms around him and gave him a squeeze. "I love you, too." She confided in him, and they kissed once more. "Don't you dare leave again."

"You know I have to." He reminded her reluctantly.

Justine pouted. "Fine. But you better make up for it."

"Well, I have a few ideas." He stated, his eyes twinkling suggestively. 

She giggled. "You would." She slowly stood up and helped him up. They held hands as they walked outside and over the grounds, A long walk was definitely what they needed.

**XXX**

John Allerdyce wasn't stupid. He was many things, and he definitely wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he wasn't stupid. In the beginning, he had thought he would have power and prestige from following Magneto. He imagined he would be hailed as a hero when the final battle came and the dust settled, and they were the winners. He realized quickly that he was nothing more than another pawn to Magneto. He became resentful. He had left his friends (or rather, his friend, Bobby), the only home he had ever known, and all hope of a future for this cause, and it only left him aching and exhausted from fighting battles that were not his own.

As he laid on the concrete floor of the warehouse the Brotherhood had taken up residence in, he adjusted the flamethrowers that were attached to his arms absently as he stared up at the ceiling. He sighed, closing his eyes. His mind went immediately back to the Institute, and everyone he had left behind.

He had never fancied himself as the center of attention or the life of the party. He didn't want to be either. He had Bobby and that was pretty much all the friends he could stand. But there had always been a chance of something… else. If he was really honest, he knew he had had a stupid crush. It was just that. A stupid crush. But the question that nagged at him was, if it was such a simple crush, why was Emily Rachery constantly on his mind? Her gentle features plagued him like a disease. He blamed Rogue. She should have known better than to tell him how Emily was doing. He growled and turned onto his side, mentally promising himself to flame anyone who tried to bother him, metal manipulator or no.

**XXX**

Jean, sprawled out on the living room couch with her laptop, busily consulted two books as she looked for some way to begin her next medical paper. Her topic was how mutation affected the general health of teenagers, as opposed to human teenagers. She had taken every kind of sample from several of the students, along with interviewing them with the promise of anonymity. Even so young, the kids knew they didn't want to be so well known. She smiled as the front door opened and Scott walked in.

"Hi." She greeted cheerily. "How are you?"

Scott grinned at her, walking over and kissing her in greeting. "Good, now that I'm home. How's the paper?" He inquired, bending down to read over her shoulder.

"It's coming." She shrugged. "I just need to write it down." She sighed, her head hurting slightly from the stress of having to write another one of these papers and get called to the Senate to present her findings. That would not be fun, though she knew how necessary and important it was.

"Well, I'll leave you to it. You're brilliant, hon." He kissed her forehead and then walked into the kitchen.

Fifteen minutes passed, and Jean had settled into a good rhythm of typing, brainstorming and checking her research. She heard slight rustling in the kitchen, and assumed that Scott was doing a small inventory of what the school staff had moved from the school's cabinets and what they still needed to purchase. She rubbed her eyes and had set aside her laptop to take a break when Scott called for her.

"Jean? Could you come here for a minute, babe?"

She loved it when he called her 'babe'. It made her feel sexy. Therefore, she was powerless to resist. "Sure." She walked to the kitchen.

When she opened the door, she could only grin and giggle. Scott stood by the kitchen island, clad only in a pair of jeans. Jean happened to find him even sexier when he wore jeans, and she couldn't help it that he looked so delicious, perfect muscle structure and all. She raised an eyebrow as he held up a can of whipped cream.

"See, I've got a small problem. I've misplaced my shirt and I have whipped cream. What do you suggest I do?" He asked, smirking naughtily as he sauntered towards her.

Jean wrapped her arms around his neck, matching his smirk. "I have no idea, Scott." She then kissed him deeply, stealing the can of whipped cream as she did so. With a devious look, she curled her finger at him, and led him up the stairs.

What no one in the house realized was that when they were busy consuming the cream from each other's bodies, Scott's cell phone on the kitchen table went off, playing, "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi. A menacing voice left a message and then hung up, leaving no name or way of getting back to the caller. Scott didn't bother to check his messages for several days.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I still don't own X-Men.**

Jean smiled as she opened the door to the Professor's study, not startled by the presence of the Professor's physics class. She had purposefully come early to try and acclimate herself to the mental noise present in the school. She took a seat on the couch pressed up against the wall. She closed her eyes momentarily, strengthening her mental shields. Having teenage thoughts flittering around the school was incredibly annoying. It didn't matter how cute Alyssa thought Bobby and Rogue were, and she had half a mind to tell Bobby to pay attention to the Professor and stop letting his thoughts turn to his girlfriend. Teenagers. 

"Bye Dr. Summers." The students said dutifully as they quickly left the office.

"Bye guys." She closed the door as the last student walked out.

The Professor greeted her. "Hello Jean, how are you today?" He paused to pour her customary coffee. "Cream or sugar?"

"Cream, please." Jean sat down in a seat across from Xavier. "So, down to business?"

"Ah, yes." He folded his hands on his desk. "I think you're ready for the last of the barriers to be taken away."

Jean couldn't help the flash of fear that slapped her right in the face. Her mind instinctively reached out for Scott's, needing the comfort his mind could offer. He was no telepath, and they shared no mental link, but his mind was different to her. Each mental presence had a different feel, and those 'feels' were interpreted differently by each telepath. Scott's mind felt warm and inviting, and he manipulated his shields as best as he could to accommodate her presence. She relaxed as she was reassured of his presence, and he did what he could to assure her that she was safe, no matter what was going on, as he had no way of knowing.

"Okay." She finally replied, steeling her resolve and forcing herself to take her mind away from Scott's. She pined momentarily for the comfort of him, but she composed herself. "Okay, let's do this."

Jean's eyes fell shut and the Professor focused his energy. He avoided Jean's strong defenses as she opened her mind to him, and he quickly began work. He found the barriers easily and began to dismantle them. It was a long and arduous process, simply because her mind had made space for the barriers and the fences that trapped her more dangerous persona were deeply entrenched into her mind. However, with his fierce control and gentle touch, the barrier was gone within the period of an hour, and the Phoenix rushed to meet the rest of its mind, shoving the Professor forcefully out.

Unfortunately, this resulted in a powerful telekinetic push, thrusting the Professor up against the wall, his head making sharp contact as he was thrown from his wheelchair. He crumbled to the ground, unconscious. 

Jean's eyes snapped open and she felt intense heat welling up underneath her skin. Her brain buzzed with new energy and power that she longed to begin using. Adrenaline that was secreted from her brain raised her heart rate and she unwittingly lifted all of the furniture in the room. Her mind relaxed under the strain of her new power, and the mind she had used all of her life became dominant once more. Reason replaced instinct, and the haze of red was easily blinked away.

Jean staggered forward with a gasp, her legs having gone somewhat numb, but she forced her way to the Professor's side. Her palm covered his cheek, and she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. She was a doctor, for heaven's sake! She was supposed to be able to work under pressure and in heartbreaking situations. She gently moved the Professor onto his back and bent over him, checking for breathing. He was still breathing. She reached into his mind, almost shoved away by his unconscious defenses. She navigated around those defenses, and moved through his mind, carefully checking each part. When she pulled out, she could relax somewhat. His brain and mind were not harmed beyond repair. He would be fine, despite his age.

Suddenly, the reality of what had just happened crashed upon her and she jerked away, falling back onto her butt. Tears burst into her eyes and she covered her mouth with one hand. She took a mere moment to find Scott's mind, knowing he was without a class at the moment, and called to him. His conscious mind responded with an affirmative pulse, for non-telepaths could not communicate through electrical pulses with words, and Jean found comfort in the knowledge that Scott would be there soon and could help her. She sat there, in a daze, under the door burst open and Scott ran to her side, immediately kneeling down to make sure she was alright.

"Are you okay?" He asked, putting an arm around her shoulders. "What happened?"

"He… he took the last barriers in my mind away, and it all just rushed on me. I couldn't control it." Jean told him, her voice and body shaking as she leaned into his touch. She laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm hypersensitive to everything right now! I can tell that Bobby's really tempted to cheat off of Kitty because she's better at math than he is, and they're sitting outside near the basketball court. I know you love me, Scott, and I know you're worried about me, but can we focus on the Professor?" She snapped.

Scott smiled reassuringly. "Okay. We'll get him to the Med-Bay, and then I think you should work on your mental stretches and work on controlling your powers. This is all a big rush and you need to just accept your powers. You don't have to love them, and you don't have to hate them. You simply have to accept that your powers are there and they're not leaving." He kissed her cheek and then picked up the Professor effortlessly in his arms.

Jean followed him down to the Med-Bay, using the elevators to bypass the student population. She mindlessly attached the Professor to several machines, and then turned to Scott. She leaned against him.

"Thank you." She let out a burdened sigh. 

"I'll watch over him, and if there's anything big, I will call you. You go home and relax and stretch your mind. I don't want you to be hurt by all of the mental noise and everything. He'll be fine. Don't blame yourself." He seemed a fount of wisdom for her today, and she was grateful. He brushed away her hair and kissed her lovingly. "I love you, Jean Summers." 

She kissed him back, and then hugged him. She gave him a weary, frightened smile and left the Med-Bay to return to their home. A very smitten man, Scott missed her the moment the door closed behind her. He found a chair and sat down by the Professor's head. He knew there was nothing threatening the Professor's life; Xavier's mind had merely been forced into a sleep-like state for a time, or that's at least what he thought was the cause. A mere hit against the wall wasn't enough to knock someone out. He was no doctor, but he had fought and been beaten around, so he knew something of injuries and how the body worked.

Without anything to do until Jean returned in a few hours (it wasn't as though she would stay away from a patient for too long), he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, flipping it open. He noticed the voicemail icon had appeared on his main screen. He wondered how long that had been there. He dialed his own number, quickly getting to his voicemail.

"_Hey Scott, Warren here! Since you're not answering your phone, I know you won't get this until I get back, so whatever. But in case you do get this message, I am about to kill someone over here. People keep hitting on me. I think people think I'm gay. Do I look gay to you? … Don't answer that, smart one. Anyway, they want me to fund THEIR causes and not the school. I'm going to go eat. Talk to you later, man!"_

Scott chuckled, reminding himself to talk to Warren and ask about the story of being hit on. He deleted the message, and then went to the next one. For a moment, there was no voice and he wondered if someone had realized they had gotten the wrong number. However, a voice did begin to speak. For the first time in several years, Scott was absolutely powerless in fear that stabbed him in the stomach. His hand shook, but he was absolutely captivated. He had to listen to the message.

"_Hello Scott. I don't suppose you remember me, but I do hope I can refresh your memory. Our last encounter was memorable, but I don't think you quite understood what I told you. You belong to me, and I am watching you. I will have to punish you for marrying your precious little whore. Jean, isn't it? Well, we'll have to fix that. My condolences if she suddenly turns up… dead. I'll be in touch."_

Scott's mind was absolutely blank and his limbs were lifeless. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. He didn't register the fact that his cell phone closed the connection to his voicemail, now that his messages were over. He slowly flipped his cell phone shut, but his hands shook as he recalled the message. His phone clattered to the floor. He didn't bother to pick it up. 

He leaned forward and held his head in his hands. He focused only on inhaling and exhaling, for it was all he could do. If he allowed his thoughts to stray… if he allowed himself to remember, then he would be absolutely broken once more. A lump formed in his throat and tears welled up in his eyes as he, despite his wishes, relived that horrific night. He remembered being shoved up against a cold, dirty alleyway wall, the sharp pain as his cheek was scraped against the rough stone. He didn't remember every second because his adrenaline and survival instincts were kicking in, and most of it was in a whirl, but he did remember some very specific incidents, though so much time had passed. Still, he was haunted every moment of every day. Even being around Jean poured salt and lemon juice into the wound. He loved her, and he cherished her presence in his life. He lived for her, but it was almost a contradiction. She reminded him of all he could never be for her, but at the same time, she gave him a reason to continue living and to attempt to overcome the demons of his past. But it seemed one demon would simply not be overcome. He had never told her about that fateful night when he was fifteen years old, alone and freezing on the streets of New York, and he did not intend on telling her. He loved her, but he was too scared.

He looked up at the monitors attached the Professor. Everything seemed fine, he simply needed to wake up and that would only take time. Scott stood up mechanically, and mechanically wrote a note, explaining why no one was sitting at his side. Jean had left to try and control herself, and Scott had pressing matters to attend to. Something of the truth, but enough of a lie that someone else picked it up, it wasn't too personal to embarrass anyone.

He quickly left the school and fairly ran back to the house. He forced himself to walk and keep up appearances, that everything was completely fine. He reached the house quickly, and immediately entered. He kicked off his shoes, though normally he would have put them away to satisfy his wife, and walked upstairs to his work out room. He attacked the punching bag. He imagined the face of the phantom of his past and found anger and overwhelming fear welling up in him. His fists and legs were blurs as he attempted to beat his past into submission, to bend it to his will. Maybe if he smashed the punching bag enough, what happened would somehow not actually have happened. 

"Scott?" Jean poked her head into the room, dressed in sweatpants and a camisole, her hair up, obviously previously occupied with her mental stretches when she had sensed him. "What's wrong?" In respect to his privacy, she only moved into his mind without asking him was when she was further away and needed his help. There had only been a few other instances she had explored part of his mind, so she did not barge into his fragile mind, but his dark emotions permeated the very air.

"Nothing." He stopped trying to destroy the punching bag and rounded on her, nearly yelling.

She stepped back, startled by his loud voice. "I'm sorry for asking." She returned slightly sulkily. "You seem really disturbed though. Is the Professor okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure he's fine." Scott growled. "Leave me alone." He insisted, glowering at her.

Jean sighed, shaking her head. "Okay. You don't have to talk to me right now, but I would like to know what has you so wound up. If you feel you need to talk, I'll just be in our bedroom, trying to wrangle with my own mind." She gave him a sweet smile that was only slightly forced. He was compelled to attempt to return it. "See, that wasn't too hard. I love you." She reminded him.

"I love you too." He sighed. "Sorry."

"It's okay." She walked into the room and gave him a hug. "I don't know what's wrong, but I'm sure all will work out in time."

Scott hugged her in return tightly, remembering the message's promise that Jean might turn up dead. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. They stayed like that for a time until Jean pulled away, her crazy powers almost bouncing around in her head. She went into the privacy of their room and Scott went outside to give her mind some space.

He collapsed into the hammock, his heart thudding in his chest.

"_I'll be in touch."_

The voice whispered, as if on the wind. He shuddered as tears burned at his eyes once more. He shut his eyes, not allowing them to fall. He hadn't cried about what happened since that night. He wouldn't cry, because if he didn't grieve, then maybe it didn't actually happen.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. HUGE shout-out to WCUGirl since I sort of stole part of her plot from Boy Scout. She's also my awesome beta. Worship her, love her, adore her… I do.**

The next day, when Scott woke up, he rose two hours before his clock, set to go off at five o'clock. He stared up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths to try and lull himself back to sleep. Even Jean curled up next to him couldn't make him relax or calm down his racing heart. He didn't remember what his dream had been about, but he was pretty sure that he didn't want to know. He could only recall rushing feelings of fear, anger and pain. He sighed, turning slightly to accommodate Jean who had, in their time in the same bed, become accustomed to nearly sleeping on him. He looked down at her. God, even in sleep, she was absolutely irresistible to him. Even the worst memories he was plagued by everyday couldn't bar his desire for her.

"Scott… go back to sleep." Jean muttered as she pulled away from him to turn over.

"Okay." He whispered, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead before he slowly stood up. He gently walked over to the master bathroom and closed the door silently.

He took his customary quick shower and robotically got himself ready, wearing the pair of black slacks and the blue button down he had picked out the night before. His sunglasses hid the otherwise noticeable bags underneath his eyes. He sighed, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his neatly combed hair. He needed sleep, but he had to go… do something. Work, get coffee, make breakfast, anything to keep his mind from going to dangerous places that threatened to tear him apart.

He settled on the idea of making breakfast, brightening considerably when he thought of how much his actions would please Jean. They ate breakfast together every morning, but it was rare they had time to make it themselves. His lips even curved into a smile as he walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, forcing himself to remain quiet and stealthy. This was one instance he was very thankful for his battle skills when he was off the field.

He and Jean had recently went shopping at a nearby Macy's for all of their home needs. Well, Jean had done the shopping. He had followed her faithfully and made appropriately placed comments to prove he wasn't spacing out. Which he was, but after being in a relationship with her for so long, he learned to read her, and he knew what to say and when on shopping trips. But they had been most successful and now had everything they needed, and Scott had everything he needed to make breakfast.

He cracked the eggs, watched the bacon sizzle and pop, and turned over the pancakes. He nearly smirked when he saw the perfect golden-brown color of the flapjacks. He was good. He was SO good. He sang a Bon Jovi song underneath his breath as he moved about the kitchen, finding all of the plates and cups, along with the "adorable breakfast tray" Jean found at Macy's. However, he didn't need it as Jean walked down the stairs, her robe wrapped around her body.

"Good morning." She murmured, her voice hoarse. It was still quite early, but her hypersensitive mind had missed his close proximity and awakened her. She smiled as he served her a hefty plate, piled with the newly cooked eggs and pancakes. 

Scott smiled as he kissed her cheek. "Morning." He replied. "I'll be back. You enjoy that, you hear?" He asked, a laugh coloring his voice.

"I hear you." She answered quietly, her eyes twinkling. She picked up her fork and began to eat as Scott disappeared up the stairs, heading for a shower. 

Jean looked up at the clock, wincing as she saw it was nearly four in the morning. She propped her head up, closing her eyes as she continued to eat the delicious food Scott had made for her. Her heart swelled with love for her, and she reached out for his mind. She carefully covered his entire mind with her presence, doing what she could to show him how much she loved him. She would never enter his mind without his explicit permission, so she settled for allowing his mind to accept the warm emotions she wanted to share with him. Her eyes drooped shut, but she jerked up when Scott's cell phone suddenly vibrated, reminding him that he hadn't responded to a voicemail.

Idly, she reached over and picked it up, checking the name that appeared on the small screen. She blinked bemusedly as the voicemail icon appeared. She knew it was probably none of her business, but considering how she wasn't quite yet awake, her intellect evaded her. She went to his voicemail and listened to the short message.

"_I'm watching you, Scott, don't worry. Once you're back with me, I'll make you pay for everything you've done wrong, and considering it's you, that is a whole lot of pain. It'll be enjoyable. We'll see each other again soon. Very, very soon."_

Jean's throat and mouth went completely dry, and her hands shook. She dropped the phone, and it fell at such an angle that it closed with an abrupt snap. She stared at it in disbelief. Scott had been acting strangely lately; no one would have noticed other than her. He was more closed off, and he didn't laugh as much. She caught him deep in his thoughts often, and it worried her. He had many dark memories to lose himself in, but he had worked so hard to find the silver lining in life. Now, it seemed he was slipping back. Considering what she had heard, and assuming this was not the first message he had received, he had every reason to drop back into depression. 

Suddenly, she had no more appetite. Jean put down her fork, filled with shame that she had listened to his phone messages. She had learned early on in their relationship that being jealous would get her nowhere and would only cause tension between them. She had also found out that Scott was completely trustworthy, so she hadn't ever checked his messages or obsessively smelled his shirts for foreign perfume. The one time she cracked and listened to his messages out of simple curiosity… she found out something terrible. The deep voice rang in her ears, a cacophony that caused her spirit to shake, and she shut her eyes, nearly shaking.

"Jean, what's wrong?" Scott's voice broke through the dissonance in her head and several heavy pieces of furniture slammed into the floor, obviously having been unsettled by her telekinesis.

"Nothing." She lied quickly, her voice too high and nervous. "I'm fine."

Scott's eyes flickered to his cell phone that laid haphazardly on the table. Jean could feel the shimmering of fear that came from him, and she knew he suspected she had heard something he didn't want her to hear. Their eyes met, and they were silent for a long moment.

"What did you hear?" His voice was cold and steely. "Jean, what did you hear?!" 

Jean almost flinched at Scott's sharp tone, and her suspicions were confirmed. Something terrible had happened to him, once upon a time, and finally his demons were literally coming back to haunt him. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what exactly occurred, but feeling the fear emanating from the depths of his heart, she had to know so she could comfort him and hopefully chase away some of the darkness that plagued him every day of his life.

"I listened to one of your messages. I didn't mean to, and I'm sorry I listened to your voicemail, but what I heard…" Her voice shook as she stood up and faced him. "Scott… I love you. I need to know what happened to you. Some freak left a message on your phone, and you… you… you have a stalker!" She approached him, meaning to hug him, but he flinched and drew away.

"I don't want to talk about it." He cut her off from continuing. "I'm going to catch up on some work in my office, and I have some stuff to get in town. I'll be home late." Scott's words were short and clipped; this was his natural reaction. When the topic turned too deep and personal, he shut himself away and did not speak. 

Jean knew he had to be absolutely terrified to shut her away, but it still hurt. She loved him and didn't want him to needlessly suffer, and she was sure there was something she could do to help him, even if it was just a loving kiss and an open ear. She watched him walk out of the front door out into the darkness. He knew every step from their home to the school; she was not worried about him physically. If Scott didn't talk soon, he would turn back to his more destructive ways of dealing with his problems.

**XXX**

It had been four days. Scott had avoided his wife at all costs. He spent his hours in his office, finishing up all the paperwork he had put off. When he finished that, he mindlessly wasted his time playing solitaire. He won twenty-four times before he was bored.

"God…" Scott groaned, rubbing his temples as he blinked away the tiredness. He couldn't keep doing this. He was being unfair to Jean, but he couldn't just tell her everything that had happened to him. He couldn't explain to her why he nearly went crazy when someone grabbed him from behind, even in fun. He couldn't tell her why it unnerved him to walk through a big city in winter alone. It was terrifying to even consider letting her know why he absolutely had to be in control everywhere, from on the field with the X-Men to their bedroom activities. If he wasn't… he didn't want to finish that thought.

His cell phone vibrated and Scott's heart nearly stopped, but it resumed its normal pace when he saw the name emblazoned on the small screen. _**Jean**_. His hand slowly picked up the phone but he didn't open it. He stared at it, sighing. He didn't want to talk to her, but he understood he would have to, sooner or later, if he wanted to stay married to her. Jean was a strong woman, but even she had her limits. She would leave. He shoved himself to his feet and forced himself to leave the mansion and begin the walk towards their house. He didn't want to talk to her, but he needed her.

**XXX**

Jean sighed as she put down her phone once more, and tears threatened to overcome her. She could only imagine what Scott had been put through to bring him to such a state. He wouldn't talk to anyone outside of teaching his classes, and he was always gone on his motorcycle. He hadn't spoken a word to her in almost five days, and she was being tormented by the reality that he wasn't going to let her help him. She didn't know what to do. His cold silence chilled her more than falling through the ice at a lake during her childhood ever had. 

She ran to the door when she felt Scott's approach. She unlocked it and threw the door open. She allowed him to walk in, her eyes filled with tears and strangely hopeful that he had come home to talk to her. However, he didn't look at her and walked to the closet, hanging his jacket up. She sighed and turned to go back to the kitchen, where she had been staring at her laptop, attempting to write more of her paper. 

"Come with me." His voice was dead and devoid of any emotion. It resonated from his chest like a foreign command, one she had never heard before. It frightened her, for he seemed a stranger to her. She wanted to despise him for shutting her out for so long, but she couldn't find the hatred in her. She loved him, and any small victory she could win for his sake was worth it. Maybe she had done the right thing and accepted his silence for the past days.

"Scott, what…?" He cut her off.

"Don't. I will tell you everything, but you can't interrupt me." His voice had regained some emotion, though it was only desperation. 

Jean nodded wordlessly and allowed him to take her hand and lead her up the stairs to their bedroom. There, she quietly sat on the bed and watched him pace in front of her. After a while, he kicked off his shoes and stood still, raking his fingers through his hair as he always did when stressed or nervous. He let out a sigh and sank to the floor. Jean slid from the bed to sit in front of him.

"It was December twenty-first. I had just turned sixteen at the time, but this was before I met the Professor. It had snowed really hard the past two weeks, and so all of this snow had been pushed up onto the sidewalks." His voice had regained the emotionless quality as he tried to tell the story… his story. "A friend of mine, someone who I knew from being on the street, Rob, caught up with me. Rob was a few years older than me. I think he was twenty-two at the time. Anyway, he bought me lunch and we walked around for a bit."

_Scott grinned as he picked up a piece of broccoli from his plate. He tossed it over Rob's head into the other young man's hood. Rob snarled playfully as managed to get a hand on the offending vegetable. In retaliation, Rob pulled the top from his soda and sloshed some at Scott. The young teenager hollered in anger and shoved Rob. They tumbled to the ground in a small alleyway, far, far away from any pedestrians._

"_Dude, let me up." Scott laughed, pushing at Rob's heavier form. His amusement stopped when he felt Rob wasn't moving. "Uh… Rob? Are you okay, man?"_

_Rob shuddered momentarily, and seemed to snap out of the haze he had been in. Slowly pushing himself to his feet, he helped Scott up. He smirked, an almost demonic glint shimmering in his deceivingly angelic blue eyes. Most thought Rob looked like an upstanding young man at first glance, and at first glance, he was. He had a job that paid pretty well, he had his own apartment, and he went out of his way to help that little blind homeless boy. But if anyone cared to look just beneath the surface, they would see a dangerous man. He was caught up in the drug circles of New York City, and was a suspect in two rape/murder cases. Scott didn't know that, though. That suited Rob just fine. _

"_Yeah… yeah, I'm fine, Scott." His voice lost all amusement and became cool, even, and hard._

_Scott's gut was telling him something was wrong. He fumbled for the wall, for anything that could anchor him, so he could find his bearings and run. When he felt Rob's iron grip, Scott's hands flew to his blindfold that kept his eyes shut at all times, hoping his beams might help him. Before he could do that, Scott was shoved into the freezing brick wall, the rough stone scraping his left cheek. _

"_I'm… doing… great." Rob slowly bit out each word. His cold fingers reached around Scott's middle, reaching for the worn belt that kept up Scott's jeans that were two sizes too large. _

_The inherent survival instinct that had been honed over the past several years of living on his own, on the streets, kicked in. He began to thrash wildly, his malnourished body doing all it could to try and free itself. He pulled at Rob's arms, and he tried to lean down and bite the hands that kept him pressed up against the wall. He tried to scream, but Rob's superior weight was crushing his chest against the brick. The cold hands that seemed to leave a disgusting tattoo in their wake returned to his hips and unfastened his jeans._

_Seconds, minutes, hours or days later, Rob stood up, and Scott could hear the jingle of Rob's belt as he fixed his clothing. Two paper bills fell lightly on Scott's back._

"_Spend it wisely." Rob sneered. "I'll be back for you. Don't worry." Several steps later, he spoke once more. "And don't even try to escape. I'll find you. Want to know why, Scott? Because you're mine." With a final kick to his ribs, Scott was left alone in the freezing cold. His insides quaked, and moments later, he vomited, and then cried, his tears nearly freezing on his pale cheeks. _

_Seconds, minutes, hours or days later, Scott stood up. Shame burned at his chest and fear seemed to separate him from his body as he bent down and picked up the money. He considered ripping it up, but he needed to eat. Tears fell down his face once more, and he tried to hide them as he rejoined the heavy foot traffic that never slowed in New York City._

Jean couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She didn't want to believe something so… so… atrocious had happened to Scott, someone who had already suffered enough. She had never suspected such a thing. He had never mentioned anything of the sort. She looked down at the carpet, her features contorted with compassion and pain.

"I never saw him again because the Professor found me a month or so later. I always wondered if Rob… would…" He trailed off, and didn't finish that thought. Instead, he began a new sentence. "I'm sorry, but when I heard Rob's voice, after all these years… I was so terrified because he had managed to find me. Now, I… I don't know… He mentioned you, in his first message, that he'd hurt you…" He could only focus on taking in heaving breaths, and the words seemed to flow from his mouth of their own accord.

"I'm sorry for pushing you away, but I had managed to put the memories away. They were always on my mind, but never thought of, in a way. I had them carefully packaged, so I could pretend it never happened. I'm supposed to be strong, but…" Scott's eyes were dry. He had cried too much over what had happened. He wasn't about to cry right now. It would be too much for him. 

Jean hesitated as she pushed herself to her knees and crawled over. She met his eyes through his sunglasses and wrapped her arms around him, feeling disconnected from the situation. How was he not crying? What was she supposed to do? How did she respond to something like this? Would their relationship be forever changed? Why hadn't he told her sooner? Didn't he love her enough? Did he still trust her? Did she trust herself to be normal for him so he could start the healing process? How did someone heal from such a scar?

"I love you." She whispered. "I love you, and nothing that anyone ever did to you can change that. I love you, Scott."

"I love you, too." He responded, but there was no emotion. Though he had told her what happened, he still kept himself away from her emotionally. If he allowed the floodgates to break, and he let his emotions take hold… there was no telling what he would do. He didn't want to go back to _that_ place, the place of suffering and despair he had visited too often in his teenage years. He should be stronger than this.

"I don't know what to say, except that if this bastard ever comes near you, I will kill him." She promised him. "He can't touch you. I don't care about right or wrong. If he tries to hurt you…" She trailed off dangerously. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "So… do you think he's…?"

"Stalking me?" Scott asked with cynical humor lacing his tone. "Yes, probably."

"Why aren't you…?" It seemed Jean was unable to finish even one sentence in her shock, fear and anguish that something like this had happened to the man she loved.

"Emotional, crying, writing my suicide note?" Scott asked, a cold smirk pulling at his lips. "Because I can't."

"What?" She asked, cupping his face in her hands. "You…" She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. "You have to let it go. Even just a little bit right now. You can't just lock it away forever. Now I know and I can help you, but you have to let me, Scott. Don't… don't do this. We've done this whole I'm-too-strong thing too many times between us both. You can be a little weak and a little vulnerable here. It's okay, Scott. Please, just let it go." She begged him.

Scott bowed his head. "I can't." His voice was strained, and it was clear he had to make an effort to keep it all together.

"You can." She whispered. 

His eyes met hers in the dim lighting of one lamp, the golden glow making her appear even more angelic than she usually did. He could feel the emotions welling up, and he tried to repress them, yelling and screaming at himself in his mind that he was a weakling, that he deserved what had happened to him, that if he couldn't be strong, then he was worthless, but all those thoughts served to bring the first of many tears to his eyes, and moments later, it seemed, his face was wet and Jean was holding him in her arms, loud sobs that he had locked inside his heart for years finally coming out.


End file.
